My Best Friend's Girl
by Court819
Summary: B/D, K/B/A, D/?, S/? Set in the early days of 90210, this story precedes the episode "Stand Up and Deliver." It will focus on Brandon's run for Student Council and Kelly and Andrea vying for his attention, as well as how Brenda dealt with the campaign.
1. High School Confidential

**My Best Friend's Girl**

_**Author's Note: **_So as I begin to wind down Viva Las Vegas, I decided to pick up a story that I had started years ago when fanfiction first got popular, but there was really no place to put 90210 fiction. I was inspired by my muse, Jianna, and her wonderful Summer Lovin' story, since this fic is set waaaaay back in the days of the first season. In fact, it's really fun to rewrite show history, as great as some of the "real" stuff was. For example, this fic is pre-Spring Dance (gasp!), an ep I really love. It's set just before the events of the episode "Stand (Up) and Deliver." Don't worry, Brenda's not running away from home this time, but Brandon _is _running for class president.

Okay, enough of my blabbering. Onto My Best Friend's Girl

**Chapter 1: High School Confidential**

Brandon Walsh sighed and clicked the backspace key again, erasing the entire sentence he had just written. He stared at the blinking cursor, its rhythmic pulsing reminding him he had nothing on the screen and two hours until his story on the swim team's unprecedented tenth straight state title was due to Andrea. Swiveling around in his chair, he glanced at the wall clock and was dismayed to realize he had just five minutes left in his study hall. Ditching Spanish was not an option, he knew, so if he was going to attempt to finish the story at all, it was going to involve missing lunch.

"Thought I'd find you holed away in here," a voice called as the door to the office of the _Beverly Blaze_ creaked open.

"Hey Bren," he replied, not taking his eyes off the blank screen. "What's up?"

"I forgot my lunch," she replied, her voice more dramatic than it needed to be over a forgotten brown-bag. He rolled his eyes and stood, jamming his hand into his rear jeans pocket. His fingers closed over his wallet, and he slid it out, thumbing through it for a couple of dollar bills.

"Thanks, Brandon," Brenda beamed, her hand outstretched to take the money. Brandon held it above her head.

"Ah-ah," he chided. "Not so fast, my penniless twin. I'll loan you this on one condition." Brenda crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

"I am not doing your chores again this week," she huffed, remembering last week when she had agreed to do Brandon's share of the dishwashing, recycling and vacuuming in exchange for him keeping silent about two consecutive nights she had snuck in after curfew. It had been worth it though, she smiled to herself, picturing herself in Dylan's car with him down by the beach.

"Relax," he snorted. "I just want you to buy me a soda and bring it here at lunch."

"Deadline looming?"

"Yup," he nodded, holding out the bills. She snatched them triumphantly.

"You've got nothing, right?"

"You know me so well, sister dear."

"I'll bring you your Coke. Gotta go. Dylan's waiting for me."

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" he yelled at her as she swung open the door. She turned and gave him a wink.

"Long bathroom break. Girl troubles." She giggled and slammed the door behind her. He shook his head at his sister's lovesick behavior. Brenda was no saint, not by any means, but back in Minnesota, she had never so much as ditched a class. Her relationship with Dylan McKay was certainly partly to blame for the change in her attitude.

He pulled out the desk chair, poised to sit back down, but swore silently as the bell rang loudly, signaling the end of third period. He kicked at the chair and gathered his Spanish text and notebook from the desk. It would take divine inspiration for him to draft a really good piece within the forty minutes lunch provided him, but he was going to have to try. Besides, Andrea would no doubt change half of what he wrote anyway.

Speaking of the Devil, as Brandon opened the _Blaze_ office door, he was greeted by none other than Andrea Zuckerman herself.

"Oh, hey, Brandon," she smiled, shifting the large messenger bag she carried over her left shoulder. Brandon knew it was stuffed full of copy after copy of stories for that week's edition of _The Blaze_, no doubt marked to the margins with Andrea's infamous red pen.

"Hey, Chief, no time to chat. I gotta get to Spanish, I'm actually betting on a pop quiz today." He brushed past her and began to walk down the crowded halls of West Beverly High.

"You have your article done yet?" she called after him.

"It's a work in progress," he replied over his shoulder. "You'll get your story, Zuckerman." He picked up his pace and dodged bodies left and right, weaving his way among the throng of students milling about, most not wanting to get to class a moment earlier than necessary. He caught a glimpse of Brenda, leaning against her locker, Dylan's arm slung casually around her as Brenda animatedly engaged in a conversation with her best friends, Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin. As he walked past them, he met Kelly's eyes, and she flashed him a smile as she continued talking with Brenda and Donna. He returned her smile and felt a hand clap on his shoulder.

"Brandon, man, where have you been?"

"Hey, Steve," Brandon greeted the guy who had quickly become his best friend when he and Brenda transferred to West Beverly High School from Minneapolis last fall. "I spent study hall in the office, trying to get my stupid swim team story done by today's deadline."

"Andrea still giving you the bottom-feeder stories, eh?" Steve chuckled. "Hugh Hefner himself couldn't make our swim team interesting. And I'm talking naked pictures included."

"The streak is admirable," Brandon replied. "It's just the same story week after week."

"Yeah, well, I missed you in study hall. Darla Dilts was wearing this incredible low-cut sweater, and I swear, you could see almost everything when she bent down to get her books out of her bag."

"Ah, so she's this week's Sanders Special Crush of the Week?" Brandon laughed as they arrived at the Spanish room, sliding into their seats just as the second bell rang, announcing the start of class.

"I definitely wouldn't mind getting a closer look at those goods," Steve returned, smirking knowingly. "She's on my list."

"You have a list?" Brandon shook his head incredulously.

"Don't judge me, Brandon," Steve quipped.

"Hola clase. Limpiar su escritorio para un concurso de pop," Senora Villara announced, waving a stack of papers in her left hand. Brandon smiled and placed his textbook under his desk, tapping his pencil against the edge of his desk.

"I knew it," he murmured.

"What'd she say?" Steve hissed.

"She said if you had done your homework, you'd do better on the pop quiz she's about to hand out." Steve's face fell.

"Pop quiz? Dammit."

"Buena suerte, mi amigo," Brandon grinned, grabbing the paper being passed to him and beginning his quiz in earnest. His grin spread as he heard Steve muttering a few obscenities under his breath from the seat behind him.

***

"You two make me sick," Kelly declared, rolling her eyes as she reached for a bottle of water in the line of the cafeteria. Brenda giggled and nuzzled closer to Dylan.

"Is that all you're eating?" Donna asked, grabbing a Chef salad from one of the serving stations running along the length of the wall.

"No, Mom," Kelly retorted, handing the lunch aide a dollar to pay for her water. "I brought something from home."

"Brenda, are you eating?" Donna asked.

"Yeah, I have to grab something. I forgot my lunch this morning."

"Shame on you, letting a Cindy Walsh special go to waste," Dylan joked.

"Knowing my mom, she saw it right away and it was safely stowed in the refrigerator for me to take tomorrow." Brenda scanned the racks, studying her options, and she settled on a chicken salad sandwich and a small fruit salad. She forked over the money her brother had lent her and paid for her meal.

Trays in hand, the girls, Dylan close at Brenda's side, wove their way through the labyrinth of cafeteria tables to the door at the rear of the cafeteria that opened out onto the quad of the West Beverly campus. They walked to their usual spot, settling under a large tree.

"Donna, how do you eat all that crap and stay so skinny?" Brenda lamented, enviously eyeing her friend's tray, brimming with a plate of chicken fingers, French fries and a brownie. Donna shrugged and took a slow sip from her Coke.

"My mother says it's in the Martin genes," she admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, we'll see when we're thirty," Brenda teased.

"Gross. Can we please not talk about getting old?" Kelly wrinkled her nose, sliding a wrapped sandwich from a brown bag.

"Why aren't you eating?" Donna asked Dylan.

"Why do you ask everyone what they're eating?" Dylan replied back, not answering her question. Donna blushed and looked down at her plate, absently dragging a French fry back and forth through a mound of ketchup.

"What are we doing tomorrow night?" Kelly asked brightly, changing the subject. Brenda and Dylan exchanged a glance.

"Dylan and I sort of have plans," she began slowly.

"There's this restaurant off Santa Monica Pier," Dylan interjected. "Thought we'd take a drive down there and give it a whirl, spend a nice Friday evening together."

"Oh," Kelly said flatly. "That sounds nice." She turned to Donna. "So what should we do tomorrow?"

"Um, I think Tom Hartman is having a party," Donna offered.

"You don't still have a crush on him, do you?" Kelly challenged, leaning towards her friend. Donna pressed her lips into a thin line and avoided Kelly's eyes.

"Um…no?" she replied.

"You answered my question with a question," Kelly pointed out. "Don, Tom Hartman is a senior who doesn't give a second glance to girls who aren't cheerleaders. And last I checked, we had both abandoned our pom-poms in eighth grade."

"I know, Kel," Donna frowned, politely trying not to stare at Brenda and Dylan, who had started nuzzling each other, and Brenda was now practically sitting in his lap.

"And I'm pretty sure he's still dating Cammie Fisher," Kelly continued.

"Okay, Kelly," Donna sighed, exasperated. "But we can still go to the party anyway. It's better than sitting home."

"I suppose," she agreed, raising an eyebrow at Donna and rolling her eyes as she subtly nodded her head in the direction of Brenda and Dylan. Donna covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"You guys might want to come up for air," Kelly teased. "I'm not CPR certified if either of you stop breathing." Brenda and Dylan broke apart, Brenda dabbing at the corner of her lip and smiling ruefully.

"Sorry," she apologized, not really meaning it.

"You could have gotten CPR certification if you had taken the Rescue/Life Saving Health course I did last semester," Donna replied. Kelly sniffed.

"It was a joke, Don. But I never take those stupid Health classes. I'd rather take soccer or volleyball as my Phys-Ed option. Way hotter guys to ogle, and most of the gym teachers don't care if you just sit on the sidelines."

"That's a great reason, Kel. And you were giving me a hard time about stalking a guy at a party?"

"It's not stalking, it's admiring," Kelly shot back.

"Well, ladies, as much as I'm enjoying your stimulating lunch conversation, I'm going to have to bid you farewell." He leaned down and kissed the crown of Brenda's head.

"Where are you going? Lunch doesn't end for another twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I know," Dylan nodded, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "But I'm going to meet with Mrs. Teasley about registering for SATs." Brenda clapped her hands together giddily.

"Really, Dylan?" she exclaimed excitedly. She had been nagging him for weeks to stop being so stubborn and take the test like the rest of them, but Dylan had remained firm, arguing taking a college entrance exam was pointless when you weren't going to go to college.

"Yes, really," he replied, giving her a wry smile. "I think I can still make late registration for the session next month." Brenda jumped up and threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered fiercely against his throat as he hugged her tightly.

"No promises, Bren," he warned. "This doesn't mean I've changed my mind about college."

"I can't believe we're going to have to start thinking about college and real-life stuff," Kelly lamented, picking a piece of turkey off her sandwich and popping it into her mouth. Brenda kissed Dylan goodbye and watched him saunter off towards the main office building where the guidance counselors were housed before sinking back down to the ground, crossing her legs at the ankles as she got comfortable.

"Let's not think about it," Donna declared. "Let's talk about important stuff. Like last weekend, my mom dragged me to some awful movie, but before it there was a preview for this movie that's coming out this summer with Keanu Reeves _and _Patrick Swayze. So who do you think is hotter?" Brenda and Kelly glanced at each other, giggled, and the three friends resumed their girl talk until the bell rang.

***

Brandon tapped angrily at the keyboard, his irritation with his sister rising with every new word he typed. All he has asked was one little favor; all he wanted was a damn soda to give him a bit of a sugar rush as he worked on his story instead of eating. Glancing up at the clock, he knew that with just five minutes remaining in 5th period, Brenda had most likely forgotten.

His eyes scanned the screen, rereading what he had written for the third time now that his final sentence was in place. _Not bad_, he thought to himself. It certainly wasn't the kind of story that was going to win awards, but it served its purpose and gave the swim team its due.

"You finished?" Andrea was suddenly looming behind him, craning her neck over his shoulder to peek at the screen. Brandon turned in his chair and found her face just inches from his, surprising her so that she jumped back, startled.

"Just have to hit 'print'," he replied. His stomach rumbled loudly as he clicked the button, and the printer whirred to life.

"I guess someone's hungry," Andrea smiled.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when writers skip lunch to meet deadlines," he lamented. "My sister was supposed to bring me a soda, but I'm sure with her busy social schedule, even here at school, she forgot."

"I saw your sister earlier when I was getting my lunch," Andrea said thoughtfully. "She was with Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin."

"Yeah, the Three Musketeers," Brandon mused, picturing Brenda and her two blonde friends once more. It wasn't that he didn't like Kelly and Donna. They were just so different from the friends Brenda had had back in Minnesota that it was taking some getting used to Brenda being around girls like them. Donna was cute in her own way, and she was funny, from the time Brandon had spent with her. She could be a little spacey, Brandon thought, and she was always talking about a different guy any time Brandon overheard girl talk coming from the Walsh kitchen.

Kelly, on the other hand, was easily the most beautiful girl Brandon had seen outside the pages of a magazine. He remembered when he first saw her, the day he and Brenda had pulled into the parking lot of West Beverly High in the beat-up old station wagon the Walsh family affectionately called Mondale, in honor of the former Vice-President, a Minnesota born-and-bred icon. She had taken his breath away, and Brandon had decided if this is what California girls were made of, he was going to like it in Beverly Hills. Much to his regret, however, Kelly had made an appearance in his home, introduced to him as Brenda's new friend, and Brandon had made it a general rule not to pursue any of Brenda's friends. Not anymore.

Then there was the issue of Kelly's sticky past with Steve Sanders. Brandon knew they had dated; Steve was more than happy to remind everyone of that, and he also knew Kelly had broken Steve's heart. Steve was not over Kelly, Brandon strongly suspected, and going after a friend's girl, former or not, was another rule he tried to abide by. Kelly Taylor was strictly off-limits.

"She was with Dylan McKay too," Andrea continued, snapping Brandon back to reality from his wandering mind. "They're dating, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Brandon nodded. Dylan was most likely the reason for Brenda's forgetfulness, Brandon deduced. The bell rang, a sharp, jarring signal bouncing off the walls of the small office.

"What class do you have next?" Andrea asked.

"U.S. History," Brandon replied, shutting down the computer he had used. He knew Andrea and the other editors would be working on the final touches that afternoon, but he also knew Andrea was anal-retentive about which computer she used, and it wouldn't be the one he had just finished using.

"I've got Geometry," she replied. "It's on the way to your class. Wanna walk me there?" she requested shyly. Brandon looked over at the girl who was staring back at him, her eyes wide behind her rimmed glasses.

"Sure," he smiled. He held the office door open for her, and as they stepped outside, Brandon nearly collided with none other than Kelly Taylor.

"Watch where you're…hi, Brandon," Kelly's tone changed immediately when she met Brandon's eyes.

"Kelly, hey," he smiled kindly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you."

"That's okay," she shrugged. "No worries. I didn't see you at lunch today." She pushed a lock of her silky blonde hair behind her ear and smiled coyly at him.

"Ah, yeah, well, I had to finish a story for the paper that was due by this afternoon. Andrea can be a real slave driver," he joked good-naturedly, nudging the shorter girl. Kelly's eyes swept over Andrea, as if she was just aware that the brunette was standing there.

"Oh, hi, Andrea," Kelly smiled politely.

"Kelly," Andrea replied simply.

"You had lunch with my sister, I assume. She was supposed to bring me a soda," he told Kelly. Kelly flipped her hair over her shoulder again.

"She was preoccupied with Dylan, big surprise there," Kelly replied, giving Brandon a knowing glance. "I would have gotten you a soda if I knew you needed one."

"Brandon, we'd better get to class," Andrea spoke up, clearing her throat.

"You're not in our class, Andrea," Kelly replied smoothly. "I was just on my way to History, Brandon. I assume that's where you're heading?" Brandon realized that, yes, he did share a history class with Kelly, though she sat clear across the room and there was usually little opportunity for chit-chat. Mr. Wells was all business.

"Yeah, I was," he nodded, watching Andrea shift uncomfortably beside him. His eyes wandered from the lithe blonde standing before him to the shorter, bookish girl next to him. They couldn't be more different, he mused. But he also felt caught in the middle, and the situation was quickly becoming awkward. "I think we'd all better get going or we're going to earn late passes."

"Wouldn't be my first," Kelly breezed, still smiling at him.

"Wouldn't be your first what?" sneered a voice. Kelly rolled her eyes and didn't even bother turning around.

"What do you want, Steve?" she demanded irritably. Steve smirked.

"I can think of at least two things," he leered. Kelly narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Shouldn't you be going to class?" she retorted. Brandon noticed how tense she had become, her slender body straight as an arrow, her shoulders squared.

"Probably," he laughed.

"Well, Brandon, I can't wait any longer, I've got to get to geometry," Andrea piped up. "I'm sure your story is great, but if it needs any work, I'll phone you at home tonight, okay?"

"Sure," he agreed, giving her an apologetic smile as she walked away, not giving Kelly or Steve a second look.

"We should go too, Brandon," Kelly said, her eyes still shooting daggers at Steve.

"I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" Steve mocked.

"You are such a jerk!" Kelly spun on her heel and without another word to either guy, flounced off down the hall. Brandon shook his head.

"Why do you revel in goading her so much, Steve?" he asked, his eyes following her blonde head disappearing down the hall.

"She hurt me. I enjoy returning the favor," Steve replied bluntly. The ringing of the bell sounded throughout the hall, and Brandon swore to himself, knowing Mr. Wells was all too happy to hand out late passes. The man was a sadist, and he clearly enjoyed his authority over teenagers.

"You've got a lot to learn about women, Steve," Brandon called as he began to sprint down the hall.

"Like you're an expert!" Steve returned. "I'll stop by the Pit later tonight. We've got a Friday evening to plan!" Brandon sighed and remembered that he was, indeed, working that evening.

At least he could grab a quick dinner before his shift started, he thought as his stomach grumbled loudly again, practically echoing in the now-empty hall, as he raced towards history class.

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_**Author's Note 2: **_So there you have it, the start to another fic. It's really not proofread cause I wanted to get something, anything up for Jianna tonight, so my apologies if I missed anything! I hope it reads like the old episodes viewed, and I hope you feel the characters the way they were way back in 1991. As the title suggests, I'm heading for another story of how B/K might have gotten together…but I'll make it interesting, I promise!

Fic title belongs to the Cars, chapter title to Jerry Lee Lewis!


	2. Talk is Cheap

_**Author's Note: **_Sorry it took so long to get Chapter 2 of this posted. I was working on the next chapter of Viva Las Vegas, but it just wasn't flowing. I hope it have it up by Thursday at the latest, but my schedule this week is crazy hectic, so no promises. Thanks to those of you who sent encouragement to the start of this story. I'm glad you like it, and yeah, it's fun to write them the way they were so many years ago. BTW, I'm cheating and using an album title for this chapter, cause it fits so well. Who knew Keith Richards could be so deep?

**Chapter 2: Talk is Cheap**

Brandon bounded up the steps from the foyer to the second floor of the Walsh house, hoping he'd be able to catch a twenty-minute power nap before heading to work at the Peach Pit at 4. He dashed down the hall to his bedroom, tossing his backpack mindlessly in the direction of his desk. Diving onto his bed, he pounded at the pillow twice and nestled his head against it, closing his eyes before thinking twice and reopening them. He glanced over at his clock, contemplating setting his alarm, not wanting to take a chance he'd slip into a deeper sleep and wind up late for his shift. On the other hand, he thought, he could see if Brenda was home yet and ask her to wake him in time to get to work.

He weighed his options, Brenda's earlier irresponsibility looming in his head, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Jumping off his bed, he crossed his room to the bathroom he and his sister shared and passed through, rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles. He thought he heard muffled giggles that stopped once he had knocked.

"Come in!" Brenda yelled. Brandon pushed open the door and first saw Brenda, cross-legged on the bed, a textbook open in her lap, pen clenched between her teeth. His eyes wandered to the floor, where he noticed Kelly Taylor lying on her stomach, her legs up in the air, bare feet swaying back and forth. She too had a textbook open on the floor in front of her, and she was tapping a pencil against the pages. He hadn't expected to find her in Brenda's room, and he tried to remember if he had seen her car in the driveway when he had gotten home or if he just been so anxious to rest he had completely overlooked it. Kelly flashed him a brilliant smile as Brenda raised an eyebrow at him.

"You want something?" his sister challenged. He could have sworn he saw Kelly purse her lips suggestively, but he dare not stare at her.

"Yeah," he began, "I want to take a quick nap before heading to work. You think you can handle waking me up in, like 20 minutes?"

"I guess so," she replied, shooting a look at Kelly, who was now scanning the pages of her textbook intently.

"You're not gonna forget like lunch today?" he warned. Brenda heaved a dramatic sigh and pushed her bangs off her forehead.

"I forgot, Brandon. Things happen. When Kelly told me after school, I felt bad. Really I did."

"Yeah, Dylan McKay," he muttered under his breath, surprised Kelly had even mentioned the soda to Brenda.

"What did you say?" Brenda narrowed her eyes at him. Kelly continued to pretend to be lost in her homework, her feet moving in tiny circles in the air above her body. Brandon found his eyes following the mesmerizing swing of them, sporadic flashes of pink from the polish on her toes.

"Nothing," he snapped back. "I'm going to take a rest. Twenty minutes," he repeated, turning back towards the bathroom.

"I'll make sure she remembers," Kelly piped up, her eyes meeting his, a slight twinkle dancing in the blue orbs.

"Thanks," he replied, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him and heading back into his room. He decided to draw the blinds, then repositioned himself on his bed, closing his eyes.

His thoughts immediately drifted to the pretty blonde in the room next door. He was fairly certain Kelly had some level of interest in him. He knew she was generally friendly and flirtatious with most guys, save for Steve Sanders, and maybe he was reading into things too much, but he definitely felt her eyes on him way more lately. And she was always smiling.

He couldn't help but smile thinking about her, and it was just the lullaby he needed to soothe him to sleep.

***

"So when did you become so interested in my brother?" Brenda accused the second Brandon had shut the door. Kelly looked up, her eyes wide with innocence as she finished writing her sentence and put her pencil down.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Kelly. I'm not stupid. You're always smiling at him, and you made it a point to tell me I had forgotten his stupid soda today, and then you offer to back me up in case I forget to wake him?"

"Just being a good friend," Kelly shot back, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"You're _my _friend," Brenda hedged. "Not his."

"We're all friends, aren't we?" she said, picking at a fiber on the rug. "Except maybe Steve. He doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"I'm just saying, if you're interested in Brandon, you should know that you're not really his type." Brenda bit her lip and immediately regretted the words as they left her mouth. Kelly's brow furrowed, and her pretty face contorted in a frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Nothing," Brenda sputtered, twirling her pen in her hand. "Forget I said anything."

"No," Kelly shook her head, springing to her feet, nearly kicking her textbook in the process. "Why am I not Brandon's type?"

"Um," Brenda stammered, her mind desperately searching for the right way to reply and smooth things over without getting Kelly any more upset. "Well…um…it's just, well, Brandon dates a lot of brunettes," she finished lamely. Kelly's blue eyes glinted steely in Brenda's direction.

"That's not what you meant," she leveled, placing her hands on her slender hips. "Admit it, Brenda, you meant Brandon doesn't go for ditzy, slutty girls like me."

"No, Kelly, that's not…" Brenda started to answer, but the wounded look on her friend's face caused her words to trail off inaudibly. She felt a pang of guilt for being responsible for that look. Kelly leaned down and hastily gathered her book and paper, jamming them into her bag and grabbing her purse. She slung both over her shoulder and fled from Brenda's room.

Brenda exhaled and flopped back against her pillow, listening to the sound of Kelly's feet thundering down the stairs. She thought she heard her mother's voice, but almost immediately recognized the slamming of the front door. She sprang off the bed and raced to her window, just catching Kelly backing her car past Brandon's Mustang and peeling off down Hillcrest Drive.

"Brenda?" Her mother was suddenly in the doorway of her room. "Where did Kelly go so fast? She barely said goodbye before she was out the front door. Brenda sighed again and perched at the edge of her bed. "Did you two have a fight?" Mrs. Walsh asked gently.

"Not exactly, Mom," she replied. "But I said something I shouldn't have, and I think I really hurt her."

"Oh, Brenda," her mother clucked, crossing to sit down next to her daughter. "What happened? What did you say?"

"Well," Brenda paused, wondering if she really should tell her mother about accusing Kelly of having the hots for Brandon. She decided to stretch the truth…just a bit. "See, Mom, we were talking about this guy Kelly likes, and I make the mistake of saying Kelly probably wasn't his type, and she took it personally."

"What did you mean by it, Brenda?"

"We-e-e-el," Brenda trailed again. "Kelly figured I meant she was too ditzy and slutty for this guy." She saw the surprised look cross her mother's face. "But I didn't say that, Mom! And I didn't mean that. Not at all," she added hastily. "I'm not sure what I meant, honestly. But Kelly's really sensitive about her reputation, and she just jumped to conclusions. And now I feel awful."

"Sweetie, you may have said it innocently, but from the look on her face, you must have really hurt Kelly. It appeared she was trying to hold back tears when she left."

"I know," Brenda replied miserably. She sighed and caught a glimpse of the clock out of the corner of her eye. She jumped up. "I told Brandon I'd wake him. He's working tonight."

"Are you going to be here for dinner?" Mrs. Walsh asked expectantly, and Brenda knew it was her subtle way of asking if Brenda was seeing Dylan that night.

"Yeah," she answered glumly. "And I thought Kelly was going to be joining us." Mrs. Walsh rose and patted Brenda's shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to explain things to Kelly," she smiled warmly. "I've got to get the roast in the dinner if we want to eat at all tonight." Brenda watched her mom leave the room and darted into her brother's darkened room. She walked towards his bed and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

"Brandon?"

"Hmmmmm…" he grunted. Brenda shook him again, harder.

"Brandon, get up!" Her brother sat bolt upright.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," he insisted, dragging a hand through his now-disheveled hair. "Thanks, Bren. Glad you remembered this time."

"Shut up, Brandon," she snapped. Her brother gave her a bemused look, shrugging off his shirt and buttoning his Peach Pit uniform over a white-t.

"Awfully testy, aren't we?" he snickered. He craned his neck, looking past Brenda into her room. "Where's Kelly?"

"None of your business!" she huffed and slammed the door to the bathroom behind her. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, before dashing towards her room and lunging for her phone. She punched the buttons in quick succession and waited for the voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Donna," Brenda breathed. "It's me."

"Oh, hi, Brenda. What's up?"

"I just need to talk," she requested.

"Oh, sure. Just let me tell Kelly I'll call her back." Brenda's heart sank.

"Kelly's on the other line?" she murmured. Brenda knew immediately that Kelly had driven right home and wasted not a second's time calling Donna, no doubt to vent about Brenda. "No, no, don't go. I'll just talk to you later."

"Are you sure?" Donna hedged.

"Positive. Bye, Donna," she said softly, disconnecting the line without another word. She paused and waited for another dial tone and pressed another line of numbers.

"Yeah?"

"Hi," she whispered, smiling at Dylan's uber-casual way of answering the phone. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"I'd like to be doing you," he replied.

"Dylan!" Brenda exclaimed, her cheeks growing hot in spite of the fact she was alone in her bedroom.

"No plans, Dad's out of town, got the suite to myself for a few days. Why? You wanna come by tonight?"

"Can I?" she begged. "I just need someone to talk to."

"You know my door's always open. Just have them buzz the room and I'll come down and claim you," he teased. She exhaled and placed her hand over her heart subconsciously at his offer.

"Okay," she exhaled, relieved that she had finally passed her driver's test and didn't have to plead with him to come get her. Besides, she could easily tell her parents she was driving over to Donna's to do homework, "My mom usually has dinner ready around 6, so I'll be there sometime around 8?"

"I'll be here," he replied.

"Thanks, Dylan."

***

"Kind of slow tonight, huh?" Brandon raised his elbows off the counter, where he had paused to rest after wiping them down for the third time, and looked into the smiling eyes of Nat Bussichio, the owner of the Peach Pit.

"Kind of slow would be a few customers, Nat," Brandon lamented. "I've served two people in the last hour."

"Some night are just like this, Brando," Nat shrugged cheerfully. "On the bright side, the counters have never been cleaner."

"Thanks," Brandon replied sarcastically. Nat grinned and disappeared into the back again. Brandon tossed the rag beneath the counter and stepped out from behind it, heading towards one of the corner booths to check the salt and pepper shakers. He had just picked up the pepper to examine it at eye level when the bells over the door tinkled to announce the arrival of a customer.

"It's a regular party in here!"

"Hey, Steve." Brandon went back to the shakers when he realized it was only his friend.

"Hey, I'm a paying customer. Get your ass behind this counter and take my order!" Steve commanded as he settled his bulky frame onto one of the swiveling stools along the counter. The phone rang as Brandon began his walk back towards the counter.

"I've got it Brandon!" Nat yelled from the back.

"What can I get you man?" Brandon greeted his friend with a slap of their hands. Steve pushed back the unopened menu.

"My usual," he ordered. Brandon nodded.

"Megaburger, medium-well, fries to order, Willie!" he called, sliding a bottle of ketchup towards Steve while one hand held down the button to dispense Coke into a cup. Steve grabbed the soda, plunged a straw into it and took a long, steady sip.

"So, tomorrow night, party at Tom Hartman's. You're coming with me."

"Who's Tom Hartman?" Brandon asked, trying to place the name. It was futile, though, what with meeting so many new people within a short six month-span.

"He's a senior soccer stud," Steve explained. "Donna's been eyeing him since she was a freshman, but stupidly, in this, our young prime when we should be macking on as many gals as we can, Hartman's been with the same girl since they were sophomores. And Cammie Fisher, his girl, she ain't even that hot, man." Brandon rolled his eyes.

"Maybe not all guys are as shallow as you are, Sanders. Apparently she's a helluva swimmer. Or so my article says," he quipped.

"Whatever. Let's get back to the business at hand. This party tomorrow night, you're going, so don't wuss out on me."

"I don't know, Steve," he sighed. "It's my one night off this weekend; Nat needs me Saturday night and for the Sunday afternoon shift. I don't even know the guy, and honestly, sometimes, just watching the Kings on a Friday night works for me. The playoffs are approaching."

"Hockey?" Steve snorted in disgust. "Brandon, are you kidding?"

"Not really," he admitted, glancing up as the bells jangled and an older couple entered the Pit and headed for a table in the far right corner. Brandon grabbed his note pad and walked over to take their orders. Within moments, he was back behind the counter, spinning the paper with the couple's requests around to Willie, who was in the kitchen. At the same time, Willie was placing Steve's order in the window, hand poised above the "ready bell."

"This is why we work so well together, my man," Brandon grinned at Willie through the window. Willie winked and began reading the new order.

"I'm dragging you to that party if I have to," Steve mumbled around his first bite of burger. Brandon leaned forward and gave him a look of mock confusion.

"What? What was that?" Steve swallowed and gave Brandon a withering glare.

"You heard me loud and clear. You are not sitting home tomorrow."

For the third time within the hour, the bells over the front door jingled as the door swung open. Brandon was surprised to see Kelly step inside the Pit. Her eyes found his instantly, and she gave him her usual coy smile. But within seconds, her beaming expression grew stormy as she noticed who was sitting at the counter.

"Hey, Kel," Brandon called. Steve froze, mid-bite of his burger, and swiveled around to face his ex-girlfriend.

"Hi, Brandon." She walked over to the counter, careful to keep her distance from Steve. She leaned against the counter, and Brandon tried in vain to avert his eyes from the generous amount of cleavage her position created. "My mom called in a take-out order about twenty minutes ago." She gave him another smile.

"I'll check," he replied. Once again, just as he was looking into the window of the kitchen, Willie slid a large bag onto the ledge and stapled a receipt to the flap. "Your timing is impeccable," he praised Willie, grabbing the bag and returning to Kelly.

"I see your mom has whipped up yet another of her specials, huh, Kel? She's such a good cook," Steve smirked nastily. Kelly finally turned her attention to him, an icy glare in her blue eyes.

"Oh, Steve. I didn't see you there," she said smoothly, completing ignoring his barb. "What's the damage, Brandon?" Brandon looked down and consulted the receipt.

"Uh, looks like $21.64," he read. Kelly nodded and reached into her purse. She produced a twenty-dollar bill and a ten and slid them across the counter in Brandon's direction. He picked them up.

"I'll get your change," he offered. Kelly reached across and placed her hand on his forearm, shaking her head.

"No, no change," she murmured. "The rest is yours." Brandon gazed back at her in surprise, noting her hand was still lingering on his arm.

"Kel, people don't usually tip at all for take-out, let alone that generously." She shrugged.

"Jackie's not expecting change," she said breezily, and Brandon was reminded how odd it was that so many kids in Beverly Hills called their parents by name. He had only met Kelly's mother twice, and he had to admit she really didn't seem like the kind of woman who wanted to be reminded she was a mother. It seemed fitting that Kelly referred to her as "Jackie" more than she did "Mom."

Brandon knew Steve was watching their exchange like a hawk, and he also knew Kelly was completely ignoring the guy. In spite of the fact she had her order and had paid, she was making no move to leave.

"I wasn't expecting you to be gone when Brenda woke me up this afternoon," Brandon pointed out, changing the topic. "After all, you promised to back her up."

"Yeah, um, I had some stuff to take care of," she replied evasively, her mood suddenly less cheery and flirtatious. She was clearly giving no more away than Brenda was. She picked up the bag. "Thanks, Brandon. See you tomorrow," she replied, turning towards the exit.

"Bye, Kelly," Steve called loudly. Kelly glowered at him and disappeared out the front door, the bells announcing her departure. Steve snorted and grabbed a fistful of fries. "That girl has some issues."

"You don't exactly make it easy for her to communicate with you," Brandon chided. "Why do you always have to try to get under her skin, man?"

"Why do you care?" Steve snapped back. He straightened on his stool and shoved a few fries into his mouth, wiping at some excess ketchup on his lips with a napkin, which he then wadded up and tossed in Brandon's direction. Brandon shrugged.

"Maybe because I'm your friend and it's no fun to watch you wallow in your Kelly-Taylor-dumped-me-and-I'm-still-not-over-it self-pity. You know, in some places, guys and girls can even be friends when they break up. You want my advice, get over it."

"You don't get over Kelly Taylor," Steve replied bluntly.

"Well, I wouldn't know that," Brandon replied, shaking his head at his friend's stupidity. "But Steve, think about this: has she given you any shred of indication that she's not over you? Or that she'd be willing to take you back if you dropped the mean routine and started treating her with a little respect?"

"I tried the respect thing, right after we broke up." Brandon had to stifle a laugh. He didn't know Steve at the time, as he and Kelly had broken up well over a year prior to him moving to Beverly Hills, but somehow, knowing his friend, he severely doubted Steve had ever attempted to be civil to Kelly. "And if you must know, yeah, you remember that party at your house last winter, when your parents were in Palm Springs?"

"I remember," Brandon grimaced, recalling the horrible events of that night, a night he had partially spent in jail thanks to his asinine decision to get behind the wheel of his car after having drunk too much. It was a night he knew he'd regret for a long time coming.

"Yeah, well, thanks to a few of my magic margaritas, Kelly was more than putty in my hands that night."

"I don't think a girl's actions under the influence of some heavily-spiked margaritas can be argued as unrequited love," Brandon demurred, hearing Willie smack the bell. He pivoted, grabbed the two orders of the older couple in the corner, and moved quickly to deliver them their food. After refilling the man's iced tea, he returned to his post at the counter where Steve was polishing off the rest of his plate.

"Kelly's going to the party tomorrow night," Steve declared. "And I'm going to make it a point to get some alone time with her, try to make her realize we should give our relationship another try."

"Good luck with that," Brandon snickered. It was futile to attempt to talk Steve out of his plan, but he sincerely doubted Kelly had any interest in rekindling a romance with Steve.

Especially when Brandon was pretty sure Kelly Taylor was inching closer to making a move on him.

***

"Hey you," Dylan whispered as he opened the door. Brenda melted into his arms for a hug, which quickly led to Dylan's lips caressing her neck. Brenda sighed, trying to ignore the warmth flooding her body as he began to work his magic on her.

:"Okay," she murmured, putting a hand between them to gently push Dylan away. "As good as that feels, I really do need you to listen right now. I need a boyfriend's shoulder to cry on, since I can't talk to Kelly or Donna about this." Dylan shut the door and crossed to the sitting area of the hotel suite he occupied with his dad, who as usual, was conspicuously absent. If it hadn't been for a few random photographs around the suite, Brenda might have even doubted his existence.

"Why can't you talk to them?" he asked, lowering his lanky frame to the couch, his feet automatically swinging up onto the coffee table.

"Cause this is about Kelly, and naturally, she went right to Donna, so Donna only has Kelly's side of the story," Brenda blurted, sinking down to the couch next to him. Dylan raised an eyebrow at her.

"Did you have a fight?" Brenda nodded.

"You could say that," she replied, biting her lip and remembering the hurt look on Kelly's face.

"What happened?"

"It happened pretty fast, actually. One minute we were doing our homework, chatting about random stuff, like that party tomorrow night that she and Donna are going to, and if we should grow out our bangs or not…totally stupid girl stuff, but that's what we do, you know?" Brenda had started rambling, which was what she knew she always did when she had something on her chest that needed release. "And somehow our conversation turned to Brandon, and I accused her of having a thing for him, and then when she didn't completely deny it, I told her she wasn't Brandon's type." Dylan nodded knowingly.

"What makes you think she's got a thing for your brother?"

"I don't know. She's always smiling at him, and she never comes by our house anymore without looking really put together…"

"That's just Kelly," Dylan interjected. "I've never seen her not looking perfect, and I've known her since we were five. Donna too," he added. "I wouldn't really read too much into that."

"Okay, well," Brenda continued. "She was just acting really flirty."

"Again, that's pretty much Kelly."

"That's the problem!" Brenda exclaimed. "Kelly took my comment that she wasn't Brandon's type personally, like I had implied she was too flirty for him."

"Bren?" Dylan warned, raising the eyebrow again.

"I didn't call her a slut, Dylan," Brenda responded, knowing that's what he was thinking.

"Yeah, but I didn't say you did, and even if you didn't, you have to know that's probably how she took it. I mean, why else wouldn't you want her dating your brother?"

"I didn't say I didn't want her dating him," she replied quietly, contemplating the thought.

"No, but by saying she wasn't his type, that's certainly the message you sent her." Brenda jumped up from the couch and began to pace, frustrated.

"You're supposed to be on my side!" she wailed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. Dylan laughed gently and leaned back against the couch.

"I am on your side, babe. I'm trying to get you to see things from Kelly's point of view. You're her best friend, and you know how sensitive she is about her reputation. That's not something that goes away easily. At least not until most of those guys graduate and the rumors finally die down." Brenda heaved another sigh and placed her hands on her hips.

"I can't change Kelly's past, Dylan," she proffered. Dylan nodded.

"No one said you could, Bren. But you're going to have to be more sympathetic to her, and tread lightly. That's all." Dylan paused, an amused smile creeping onto his face. "You really think Kelly is interested in Brandon?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions," she admitted sheepishly. "Funny thing is, I don't really think he's her type either."

"I don't think it really matters. You think people look at us and think we make sense?"

"We do," she replied quickly. Dylan stood and took Brenda's hands in his.

"I know you think we do, but I'm saying you can't always predict who is going to click and have chemistry and who won't." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then worked his way slowly towards her left ear, his breath hot against her earlobe, tickling the sensitive skin there.

"I think it's kind of pointless to dwell on it. Brandon hasn't really ever shown much interest in her, and she's always around. He'd have given some indication by now if he was attracted to her," Brenda pointed out, closing her eyes as Dylan nibbled at her ear. "I guess I just needed to vent and have you act as my voice of reason."

"Good, cause I'm about to stop being reasonable," Dylan murmured, latching onto her neck and suckling gently.

"I can't stay long," she reminded him. "My parents don't know I'm here, and I'm going to have to get back home before it looks obvious." She snaked her hands around his neck and brought his lips to hers, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss before she released him. "You think I should apologize to her?"

"Yeah, I do," he nodded. "If you apologize, I think that will mean a lot to her. Even if you didn't do it with malice, you be the bigger person."

"Okay," she smiled. "Now, let's make the most of the…" she glanced down quickly to consult her watch, "…twenty minutes I can spare."

"With pleasure," he murmured, twirling her around and playfully tossing her to the couch, the length of his body covering hers. Brenda sighed blissfully and closed her eyes again, willing the time to pass slowly before she had to leave the safety of Dylan's embrace and go back to reality.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Author's Note postscript: **_Some of you have hinted you want a Spring Dance redux…well, things might indeed head that way. I've got to get Brandon's Student Council campaign going first.

Remember, nothing motivates me more than feedback. One little click of a button, potential endless reward!


	3. Sorry

**Chapter 3: Sorry**

A loud bang startled Brandon out of a pleasurable dream. He heard Brenda muttering a curse word under her breath as her shadow crept past his room. He groaned and sat up in bed.

"Bren?" he called, waiting expectantly.

"What?" she called irritably, poking her head into the room.

"Going somewhere?" he smirked.

"Shut up, Brandon," she hissed. "You'll wake up Mom and Dad." She slipped inside his room and shut the door noiselessly behind her. Brandon shot a quick look over at the clock and was stunned to see it was nearly two in the morning.

"Brenda! Where the hell were you?" He paused and studied his sister's face, not really needing an answer. He knew she could have only been one place.

"I was out," she replied evasively.

"Right," Brandon nodded. "Out. And you managed to convince Mom and Dad that you weren't feeling well and were going to bed early, or that's what they told me when I got home from work." He shook his head. "I don't know how you can lie to them so casually. They trust you Bren, and clearly, they shouldn't." Brenda pursed her lips and placed a hand on her hip.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Brandon. Like you've never lied to Mom and Dad." She rolled her eyes.

"So you were with Dylan," he confirmed. Brandon knew his parents weren't thrilled with Brenda dating Dylan McKay, and that only compounded the betrayal in his mind.

"Yeah, I was," she sniffed. "What's it to you? It's late and I'm tired."

"Yes, it's late and I'm tired, and _I_ was asleep before someone's clumsy sneak attack woke me out of a very pleasant dream."

"The one where you win the Stanley Cup or the one with Michelle Pfeiffer?" Brenda teased.

"Neither," Brandon smirked, not about to confess his less-obvious late-night fantasies to his sister. "C'mon Bren, level with me. Why sneak out to see Dylan tonight when you've got a big date with him tomorrow that Mom and Dad willingly went along with? You know they're not crazy about letting you go down to Santa Monica with him."

"There's nothing for them to worry about," Brenda hedged. "It's not like we're staying over or anything." Brandon stifled a snort.

"Bren, Mom and Dad ain't stupid, in spite of their naiveté. They know all two teenagers need is the backseat of a car."

"Brandon, don't be crass," she replied, horrified at the thought of discussing her love life with her brother. "I went to Dylan's tonight because I needed to talk to someone."

"And Kelly wasn't answering her phone?" Brenda spent most nights on the phone with Kelly or Donna, usually Kelly, so Brandon was surprised to hear Brenda had sought out her boyfriend for a sympathetic ear.

"Kelly is part of the problem," she said quietly after a prolonged silence. Brandon remembered Kelly had been gone when Brenda roused him from his nap that afternoon, and it suddenly made sense why she would have disappeared so quickly.

"You guys had a fight?"

"Yes, if you must know, we did. Or maybe you shouldn't call it a fight. I said something I shouldn't have, Kelly jumped to conclusions, got upset and stormed out of here." Brenda finally stopped leaning against the door and walked towards her brother's bed, gingerly sitting down near the bottom, not quite sure where Brandon's own feet were, careful not to sit on them. "I had tried to call Donna," she explained, "but when I got through, Donna was on the other line with Kelly, and I just knew I'd feel tag-teamed and Donna would take her side. They've been friends so much longer than either has known me."

"What was the fight about?" He wasn't really looking for a heart-to-heart at two a.m., but the strange look that crossed Brenda's face suggested something really wasn't right.

"Oh, nothing important," she said dismissively, waving her hand. She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. "It's late, Brandon, and I'm tired," she repeated.

"You already said that, but you woke me up, and now I'm awake, and you're going to tell me what you and Kelly had a fight about. You forget I know when you're lying, Bren, and 'nothing important' probably is 'something important.' So spill." She began fidgeting with her hands and avoiding his eyes.

"Well," she began, drawing out the letters "Kelly came over after school to do homework…"

"I know, I saw her, remember?" He shook his head. "Cut to the chase, Bren. Give me the short version."

"Okay, geez, Brandon, you're awfully bossy tonight."

"This morning," he corrected emphatically, "it's 2 in the morning. Get to the point."

"I accused Kelly of liking someone, and she denied it, but then I told her she wasn't really this guy's type, and she took it badly."

"Who does Kelly like?" Brandon asked nonchalantly, definitely curious as to the answer.

"It's not important, Brandon," Brenda sighed exasperatedly. "Would you stay with me?"

"I'm trying," he snapped back. "You're not making much sense."

"I'm tired!" she retorted hoarsely. "But you're the one insisting on the brotherly chat."

"Fine, Bren, go to bed," he sighed. "Forgive me for trying to be supportive and help you out. It's just when I saw Kelly tonight…"

"You saw Kelly tonight?" she asked, surprised. "Where?"

"She came into the Pit to pick up a take-out order for her and her mom." Brenda raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Kelly's mother tended to order her takeout from places like Spago. She began to wonder if Kelly had persuaded her mom to order from the Pit full-well knowing Brandon was working.

"Oh," Brenda replied, "I see. Did she say anything?"

"No, not at all." Brandon shook his head. "I mean, we really didn't talk much, but she didn't seem any different, same Kelly that's always hanging around here."

"Dylan thinks I should apologize to her," Brenda explained.

"I don't know what you'd be apologizing for," he pointed out, as Brenda was still dancing around the topic of their falling out.

"When I said Kelly wasn't this guy's type…"

"What guy?" Brandon asked again, unable to resist the urge to satisfy his own curiosity.

"You don't know him, Brandon! He's just some guy on the track team."

"I write the sports column, Brenda. I know most of the big name athletes at West Beverly," he reminded her. Brenda swore to herself and lamented the fact she wasn't better at lying on the spot.

"Kyle Conner, okay. Are you practicing to be an investigative reporter?" She sighed. "So when I said Kelly wasn't really his type, she wanted to know why, and I didn't really answer her right away, and she assumed I meant…" she trailed off and bit her lip, a look of regret sweeping over her face.

"Bren, what did you say?" Brandon pressed gently.

"I didn't actually say anything! But Kelly assumed I meant, well…she assumed I meant she was…" she coughed and trailed off again.

"Bren," he coaxed gently.

"She assumed I meant she was too slutty for him," she replied meekly.

"Oh, Brenda," Brandon sighed, shaking his head.

"I didn't say it Brandon!" she sputtered.

"Is that what you meant, though?" Her eyes raised and met his guiltily and gave him her answer. "Brenda, I can't say I blame her for being upset. Can you imagine how you'd feel if your friend implied something like that about you? And how do you even know Kyle Conner well enough to know what kind of girl he even dates?"

"I know, Brandon," she wailed. "I do feel awful about it, so now you know why I had to talk to someone, and Dylan was the only someone I could turn to tonight. So that's why this stays between you and me, and you're _not_ going to tell Mom or Dad where I was tonight, and I'm going to do the dishes for the next week to keep you quiet."

"You need to apologize to her," he added softly. "She's your best friend, and I can't imagine how much she has to be hurting right now."

"I know," she agreed, standing up and turning towards the bathroom door. "Dylan already convinced me of that. I'll find a way to apologize to her tomorrow. Now you'll have to excuse me if I cut this short. I'm going to bed. Night, Brandon," she gave a little wave and headed into the bathroom, passing through to her own bedroom, where she closed the door behind her.

She kicked off her shoes and peeled her clothes from her body earnestly, grabbing her nightshirt from the floor next to her bed where she had left it that morning. She threw back the covers and slid under the sheets, tossing and turning a few times before she got comfortable.

She thought back to that afternoon and replayed the incident with Kelly in her mind once more. Then she reflected on the conversation she had just had with her brother, contemplating her brother's reaction when she mentioned Kelly. As she suspected, Brandon hadn't given indication that he had feelings for Kelly, or at least he showed no reaction once Brenda had started talking about her, no more than his usual boy-scout concern for everyone. Brenda felt confident that whether or not Kelly was harboring a crush on Brandon, it was one-sided and sooner or later, she'd get over it and move on.

Her thoughts turned to Dylan, her body beginning to tingle as she remembered the feel of his lips all over her skin before she regained her strength and forced herself to leave his suite. It would have been so easy to give in to his gentle persuasions, but her conscience won out. Her brother was right; her parents trusted her, and she couldn't in good faith have stayed in Dylan's arms when her parents assumed she was sleeping soundly in her bed.

Butterflies began swirling in her stomach as she imagined what tomorrow night might bring, and she settled into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of Dylan McKay.

***

Brandon stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open thanks to his deviant sister, willing his body to go back to sleep. It wasn't working.

His mind began to wander, not surprisingly, back to Kelly. A slight smile played on his lips as he remembered the dream he had been having before Brenda so rudely played cat burglar and ruined his slumber. He had been at work in _The Blaze_ office, much as he had been that afternoon, when Kelly had slipped into the office and seduced him right at his desk. The dream had been so vivid, but he suddenly felt a pang of guilt for thinking of Kelly in that way.

It wasn't the first time he had dreamed about her, especially since from his vantage point, that it was the only logical way for him to have her. In fact, she was a recurring guest star in his dreams, and Brandon estimated it was at least on a weekly basis. But most times, he did dream about sleeping with her, and it was almost always she who was the aggressor. Now he worried that he was subconsciously making the same assumption Brenda had.

All he knew of Kelly's reputation was the stuff Steve had told him, and he never knew how much of that could be believed, given the source. All he had ever witnessed himself was Kelly's flirtatious nature, but in all the time he and Brenda had been in Beverly Hills, he hadn't known Kelly to have dated anyone. But in high school, reputations were hard to shake.

He was also a little suspect as to why Brenda lied to him about Kelly's supposed crush on Kyle Conner. In all their years, Brenda had never successfully lied to him, and she hadn't tonight either. It was completely illogical as to why Brenda would have objected to Kelly seeing someone like Kyle, a guy she barely knew and would have no real basis for claiming Kelly wasn't his type.

He sat bolt upright in bed as a realization dawned on him.

Brenda had been talking about him. She had to have been.

A slow smile spread onto his face it all made sense. Then the smile was immediately replaced with a frown as he realized if Kelly had indeed confessed to having a thing for him, and Brenda shot her down by informing her that she was not his type, Kelly might have jumped to the conclusion that he thought ill of her. After all, who knew him better than his sister, right?

It couldn't have been further from the truth, but Brandon knew it was a distinct possibility.

He sighed and laid back down, adjusting the sheets as he tried to relax, Kelly still very much on his mind, though a nagging voice reminded him the whole situation was a moot point.

Unless something changed, Kelly Taylor was off-limits.

***

Kelly sighed and rolled onto her side, her eyes fixed on the sliver of crescent moon outsider her window. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach hadn't completely gone away since that afternoon, and she hadn't had more than an hour's sleep before she had awoken and had been unable to drift back off.

She felt nauseous every time she thought about what Brenda had said to her that afternoon, or rather what she hadn't said, but Kelly knew damn well what her friend had meant. And what actually bothered her most was the unsettling feeling that Brenda might be right.

Kelly had had a crush in Brandon Walsh from the first time she saw him that September, even before she knew he was the twin brother of the girl she so quickly befriended in chemistry class. She had been physically attracted to him immediately; any girl in her right mind would be. He was wholesome, but sexy, and there was just something about his smile that was so warm, so inviting.

She had spent many nights lying awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to confess her feelings to him, and she was surprised herself that she had done so little to actually act on those feelings. Part of her was terrified that he wouldn't respond the same way, and he'd reject her. Which was what made Brenda's comment that afternoon all the more damaging.

She knew deep down that her friend wasn't trying to hurt her, and Brenda only knew the new, improved Kelly, or at least the part of her that was trying so desperately to distance herself from the bad rep she had earned herself thanks to her insecure behavior freshman year. She had been candid with Brenda about how much she regretted her past, and Brenda had never pried or been less than a sympathetic ear.

Still, Kelly had been incredibly hurt by what Brenda had implied.

She was also kind of surprised that Brenda hadn't attempted to call her that night to apologize. She knew Brenda had tried to call Donna, because Donna had told her so after Donna had clicked over to her call-waiting and came back to the line to inform Kelly it was Brenda. Donna had then proceeded to play peace-maker, reminding Kelly that Brenda would never had said or done anything to hurt her intentionally.

"I know, Donna," she had replied. "It's what she didn't say that hurt so much."

"Maybe it was the fact that you were flirting with her brother that bothered her," Donna had suggested. Kelly had been confused by that reasoning.

"Why would that bother her? I mean, Dylan is very close friends with Brandon, and that hasn't stopped him from dating Brenda. And honestly, it doesn't seem to affect Brandon in the slightest." Kelly had sighed. "Nothing seems to bother him."

"God, you have it bad," Donna had laughed. "I don't remember the last time you were this fixated on a guy." Kelly had then proceeded to defend herself, arguing that she wasn't that obvious about her feelings for Brandon Walsh, but she knew Donna well enough to know she hadn't entirely convinced her best friend.

She rolled over and turned her attention back to the moonlight, hoping it would help lull her to sleep.

***

The next morning, Brandon was already dressed and eating breakfast when Brenda finally made her way into the kitchen. Her raven-colored hair was neatly held back with a headband, but Brandon could see the slight puffiness under her eyes that told the truth about her lack of sleep that night. He wasn't feeling all that rested himself, and he was thankful that it was Friday. Brenda stalked past him, barely mumbling a good morning as she swung open a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal.

"Brandon," she whined, dragging his name out as she set the cereal box down angrily on the counter. "Why do you put the box back with, like, a handful of cereal left?" She shot him a nasty look as she went to the refrigerator and took a carton of yogurt, grabbing a spoon from the drawer near the sink.

"Good morning, honey," Cindy Walsh called as she entered the kitchen from the back door, closing it behind her. The morning paper was in her left hand, and she set it at their father's seat, where a steaming mug of coffee was already waiting.

"Mom, Brandon put the cornflakes back when the box was nearly empty." Her irritation was mostly due to tiredness, but Brandon was a repeat offender when it came to putting almost-empty boxes and bottles back. There was nothing worse than craving a glass of Coke to find nothing but a flat swig left in the bottle.

"Brandon," Cindy warned. Brandon rolled his eyes and continued eating his cereal silently. "I can make you something if you want, Brenda."

"The yogurt will be fine, Mom," she smiled gratefully, taking a seat across from her brother and shooting him another look.

"Morning, all," Jim Walsh called as he entered the kitchen, fingers still fumbling with his tie. He finally smoothed it down and settled into his chair, unfolding his newspaper as he gulped down a mouthful of coffee.

"Hey, Dad," Brandon mumbled around a mouthful of cornflakes.

"Morning, Dad," Brenda echoed.

"Brenda, are you feeling any better?" Jim asked, studying his daughter carefully. "You still look a little peaked."

"I'm fine, Dad," Brenda smiled, avoiding Brandon's glare as a tiny pang of guilt hit her at her dad's genuine concern.

"Tonight's the big date, I know you wouldn't want to miss that," he continued.

"Dad," she sighed. "It's just dinner with my boyfriend. It's not that big a deal."

"If you say so," Jim smiled, slight amusement in his voice.

"Stop it Jim," Cindy warned playfully. "Your father is just teasing you, Brenda."

"Dad, I know you're not crazy about Dylan," Brenda started. Her father held up a hand.

"I don't want to get into my feelings about Dylan McKay this morning," he cut her short. "I'm fine with this date tonight for one reason, Brenda, and that's because I trust you. I don't trust him, but I trust you," he repeated. Brandon coughed and looked at his watch.

"Bren, we'd better get going if we both don't want late passes for homeroom." Brenda jumped up, planting a kiss on her father's head as she did so.

"Thanks, Dad," she said softly. "Have a good day."

"Bye, Mom," Brandon called, slamming the door behind him as Brenda headed for her brother's car. She pushed her sunglasses onto her nose as Brandon turned the key in the ignition, the car sputtering to life. "I so need a new car," he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder as he backed the car down the driveway.

"So get one," she replied, fiddling with the radio. He snorted.

"With what money? Maybe if I work at the Pit nonstop til the end of the school year and find a profitable summer job, I might be able to afford another used one." He shook his head. "Driving this clunker is like being the minnow in a sea of dolphins and sharks," he sighed, referring to the abundance of fancy cars and convertibles to be found in the parking lots of West Beverly High.

"You can try to convince Mom and Dad to put up so much if you earn a certain amount," Brenda suggested. Brandon shrugged.

"Maybe." They rode in silence for a few minutes, Brandon's eyes fixed on the road, Brenda's on the chemistry homework she was frantically trying to finish before they arrived at school.

"Dammit," Brandon frowned, slowing the car to a stop as they came upon traffic.

"What?" Brenda glanced up, pencil between her teeth. "Ugh, great," she complained, removing the pencil. "Now we'll probably barely make it in time to get to homeroom." She sighed in disgust. "I wanted to try to talk to Kelly before classes started." She had planned on apologizing before school, especially since the girls shared a second period chemistry class, and Brenda wanted the air cleared before they had to share space over a Bunsen burner.

"Well, I can't make this traffic disappear, Bren, hate to burst your bubble."

"Why not? I thought you were Brandon Walsh, and you could do anything," she teased. Brandon cut his eyes at his sister.

"I'm far from perfect," he said firmly. "And you know it."

"Please," Brenda rolled her eyes. "At least here I'm getting a chance to make my own way. Back in Minnesota, I was always 'Brandon Walsh's sister'," she reminded him.

"Bren, you had plenty of friends and were quite the social butterfly at home, if you've so soon forgotten."

"Oh, yeah, I know," Brenda agreed. "I was way more popular back in Minnesota, but I was still in your shadow whether you knew it or not." She rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck as they idled in the increasing traffic. "Let's just say I'm enjoying the chance to be my own person here. I can be different. I like it."

"You're the same ol' Brenda to me," he replied. "Well, except for that guy who's always attached to your hip."

"Shut up, Brandon," she shook her head good-naturedly.

"This has got to be an accident or something," Brandon sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "It's never, ever like this." Brenda craned her neck, rising off the seat slightly.

"I think you're right. I can see lights flashing up there," she groaned. "We might even be late to class."

"Not the way I like to start my Friday," Brandon lamented. "Not much we can do about it."

"Yeah," Brenda agreed, mildly annoyed that circumstances were working against her. She had woken up that morning with a renewed sense of purpose to clear things up with Kelly. Not only did she know she owed her an apology, Brenda had a sudden urgency for some advice from her friend, and she knew Kelly would be honest with her.

Ironically enough, Kelly was the only person she trusted enough for advice about sex.

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_**Author's Note: **_Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. It was really hard to write, until I decided to keep the inner monologues of Brenda (after her convo with Brandon), Brandon and Kelly much shorter, and then it started flowing again. I actually toyed with throwing Dylan and Andrea in there, but I couldn't justify them being awake at the same hour the majority of the chapter took place. I'll get them in a future chapter (Dylan most likely the next one).

Ah, Season 1. How I loved thee.

For the record, the lyrics that inspired this chapter are from Buckcherry. Apparently, there are hundreds of songs with the same title. Who knew?

Happy Holidays to everyone, not sure I'll get anything else up before Christmas (too much baking, wrapping and three movies from Netflix that have piled up). But hey, you never know, so keep checking, I guess. ~Court~


	4. Apologize

**Chapter 4: Apologize**

Brenda sighed and darted through the hall, dodging bodies left and right as she attempted to slip into chemistry class before the bell rang and she earned her third late pass of the day. The morning had started off bad and quickly progressed to worse as she and Brandon arrived at school well after the first bell, their homeroom teacher handing them both late slips as they barely made into their seats before homeroom ended.

Then she had made the mistake of dawdling in the hallway, first searching for Kelly, and then Dylan, both unsuccessfully. In fact, none of her friends were in their usual spots. She and Donna and Kelly often congregated in front of Donna's locker after homeroom, since it was the most centrally based to their respective first period classes, and she usually found Dylan waiting for her right outside her homeroom door. Not that morning. She wound up having to race to make her first period geometry class, but not before the bell jangled and signaled another late pass would be going her way.

She exhaled in relief as she crossed the threshold of chemistry class, cursed bell as of yet remaining silent. She noted that Kelly was already seated on her assigned stool, leaning over their lab table, her blue eyes scanning a paper in her hands. Brenda took another breath, squared her shoulders and walked over to her seat next to Kelly.

"Hey," she said softly, settling onto her stool, dropping her bag at her feet and placing her chemistry text on the table, off to one side.

"Hi," Kelly replied, not looking up, eyes still fixed on the paper.

"Kelly, I really wanted to talk to you this morning before school, but Brandon and I got stuck in traffic behind some accident on Palmetto, and I was late for homeroom, and when I looked for you near Donna's locker…" She knew she was talking a mile a minute, and she realized her heart was racing as well, but before she could continue, Kelly cut her off.

"Donna went to see Mrs. Teasley this morning. She wants to drop her algebra class," she interrupted, still not meeting Brenda's eyes.

"Oh, okay. Well, I really need to talk to you," she added, placing her hand over Kelly's, forcing the blonde to finally look up and make eye contact. "I feel horrible about what happened yesterday." At that moment, the bell sounded sharply, and Kelly withdrew her hand.

"We can talk at lunch, I guess," she replied quietly, pressing her lips together tightly.

"Okay, good," Brenda tried to give her a smile, but Kelly was staring at her hands as the teacher began to speak, calling their attention to the day's assigned lab.

The rest of class passed uneventfully; the lab was nothing complicated, and Brenda noted with some degree of amusement that she and Kelly actually worked well together, or at least more effectively, when they weren't really speaking. They usually spent chemistry class gossiping and giggling and paying more attention to goofing off than doing their work. They completed the lab with a few minutes to spare, and Brenda thought she might take advantage of the time to start her apology, but Kelly had copied the weekend's homework off the board and was flipping through her textbook, clearly set on starting the assignment. Brenda opted rather for small talk.

"I didn't see Dylan this morning either," she said casually, trying to coax Kelly into conversation.

"Donna said he wasn't in homeroom;" she replied, brushing her long hair out of her face as she scribbled something on her paper.

"Oh," Brenda nodded, furrowing her brow in confusion, curious as to where Dylan might be. She thought for a moment that he might be sick, and panic set in. What would become of their date if Dylan had fallen ill? Then her heart swelled with hope. Maybe Dylan had played hooky to get things in order for that evening. And therein lay the mystery that was Dylan, she mused to herself. You just never knew with him.

When the bell rang to end class, Brenda waited while Kelly gathered her things, hesitant to start another awkward conversation. She just needed uninterrupted time to plead her case, and she crossed her fingers that the hurt that was still heavy in Kelly's eyes would lift and things would go back to normal.

"See you at lunch," Kelly said, sweeping out of the room without another word or backward glance. Brenda slung her bag over her shoulder and decided to head right to her study hall, rather than risk another dreaded late pass.

***

"Late night?" Andrea asked, mild amusement in her voice as Brandon yawned for the third time since they had begun working on next week's issue of _The Blaze_ during their own respective third period study halls.

"Not particularly," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "I was just awakened by a certain dark-haired girl with whom I share a bathroom when she came sneaking home late."

"Your parents don't have a problem with her going out on a school night?" Andrea asked, surprised, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose.

"That's why I said she was sneaking in, Andrea," Brandon tried to hide a smile.

"Oh," Andrea blushed slightly and looked back down at the notes she had compiled for the issue that was just underway. "Do you have any plans for the weekend?" she asked casually, thumbing through the stack of post-it notes.

"Steve expects me to go to this party with him tonight. Some guy named Tom Hartman," he answered. "I'm still not sure I really want to, though."

"Well, that sounds fun," Andrea said slowly. Brandon laughed.

"No it doesn't," he replied. "I'm still not recovered from that disastrous party Brenda threw when my parents went to Palm Springs. I'm best when I'm not surrounded by drunken idiots, trust me."

"I wouldn't know," she said. "I'm not exactly at the top of too many invite lists." She paused, and Brandon could tell she wanted to say something, but instead, she chewed on her lower lip and kept silent. Brandon spun around in his chair and glanced back at his computer, trying to come up with a good angle for a story. Andrea had informed him just minutes ago that the next issue needed an athlete profile, and it didn't really matter whom he chose. He was sick of dealing with the swim team, so they were out. The basketball team was having a dreadful year as their season drew to a close, and none of the wrestlers had done anything spectacular either.

"Ugh," Andrea suddenly announced. "I hadn't realized it was that time of year already."

"What?" Brandon called over his shoulder, typing the name 'Kyle Conner' with some amusement. Winter track was over, but the spring team was just beginning to practice, and he knew Kyle was one of the stars.

"Student Council elections," Andrea replied, grimacing. "A democratic process that can be anything but. Do you know how ugly high school elections can get?"

"Actually, I do," he nodded. "I ran for Student Council treasurer last year back home in Minnesota." Andrea's eyes widened, and she studied him carefully.

"You? Really?"

"You're surprised?" he challenged.

"Actually I am," she laughed. "You strike me as far too reasonable and honest for any serious run in politics."

"Why do all politicians have to be corrupt and immoral?" Brandon sighed. "They give us little people a bad name."

"Yeah, well, trust me, you're going to be sick and tired of hearing of these elections by the time they're actually held in May. It's insane the amount of campaigning that goes on, and last year, the race for president got really, really nasty." Andrea shook her head, her brown curls bobbing around her face. "I can't wait to see who throws their names into the hat this year."

"How nasty?" Brandon asked, mildly curious.

"Would you consider one candidate photocopying a doctor's prescription for herpes medication for the other candidate and plastering it all over school nasty?" She made a face.

"Um, yeah, that's gross, in more ways than one. That's hideous," he wrinkled his nose, unable to process how teenagers could be so mean.

"Thank you," Andrea nodded. "It was vile, and somehow, the offending candidate got nothing more than a warning, as long as the posters came down." She shook her head. "It's unbelievable. Student Council is supposed to be about making your high school better, invoking change, leaving your mark…"

"Why don't you run?" Brandon suggested, watching an aghast look spread over Andrea's face.

"Are you insane?" She lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "The last thing I need is anyone digging into my life any deeper, Brandon. Need I remind you that I have one very big secret that will remain that way as long as I can help it?"

"Oh, right," he nodded sheepishly. "I forgot."

"I'm not going to risk being kicked out of West Beverly just for a run at an office I'd probably never win anyway," she added. A sudden light sparked in her eyes, and she grinned broadly at Brandon. "You could run."

"What? No way, Andrea," he shook his head vehemently.

"No, I'm serious. You'd be perfect, actually, the more I think about it. You're so different from the people that usually run," she gestured excitedly, rising from her chair and beginning to pace.

"Different?" he asked uncertainly. "How so?"

"I don't know how it was in Minnesota, but here it's usually just a glorified popularity contest. No one who runs actually cares about improving West Beverly, it's just pretty people who can use it as padding on their college applications."

"Oh, so I'm not pretty enough?" he said jokingly. Andrea looked away, a flush creeping onto her cheeks, coloring them a light pink. "Andrea, I've only been a student here for half a year. I don't know enough about West Beverly to want to change anything, and really, no one knows that much about me. I'd be the "hey, who's that guy?" candidate," he reasoned, starting to get dizzy from watching her pace so intensely.

"Just say you'll think about it," she begged, sitting down and taking his hands in his. Almost as quickly as she took them, she dropped them and looked away again.

"I'll think about it," he promised wearily. "Now can I get back to trying to pick an appropriate jock for this stupid athlete profile?" Andrea leaned over his shoulder and read the screen, her expression quizzical.

"Kyle Conner?" She shook her head. "What's so special about him?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "I'm just brainstorming."

"Well, go back to the drawing board," she ordered. Brandon gave her a mock salute.

"Yes, sir, Chief," he grinned. She shot him a playful warning glance.

"Hey, you know," she began, hesitating, "if you don't go to that party tonight, I think there's a few decent movies showing downtown, and we could meet up."

"Thanks, Andrea," he smiled, knowing it had probably taken a lot of courage for her to get that out, and he certainly didn't want to hurt her feelings. "I have a feeling I'm gonna wind up at that party, though. Steve did ask awhile ago, and he doesn't usually take no for an answer." He gave her another smile.

"Okay," she replied, forcing a smile in return. "But the offer stands, just in case."

"I'll remember that," he agreed, directing his attention back to the screen, backspacing several times to delete the _Kyle Conner_ from sight.

***

Brenda checked her watch, tapped her foot anxiously and listened to the ringing of the phone on the other end. She needed to get to lunch, and she had wanted to beat Kelly to the spot under the tree near the main quad where they always ate, but her curiosity about the whereabouts of her boyfriend had gotten the better of her. So after her third period class, she had headed to the pay phone near the attendance office and dialed his suite. Unfortunately, no one was picking up.

With a sigh, she replaced the receiver, fished for her address book in her purse again, and located the number for the main desk that Dylan had told her to call if she ever couldn't get through to the room directly. Switchboards often acted up receiving calls from outside lines, he explained to her once when they had just started dating. Brenda had never dated anyone who lived in a hotel, so it had all been new to her.

She punched the numbers, balancing the receiver against her chin as she read the digits from her address book. She waited and the other end began to ring once more.

"Bel Age Hotel," a bored, clipped voice announced.

"Hi, I'm trying to reach Dylan McKay, he's in Suite 21-11," she asked timidly.

"One moment." There was a second of dead air, and the concierge must have put the call through as it rang once, twice, three times, then four. "I'm sorry, no one is picking up in the McKay suite. You can leave a message if you'd like."

"No, no message, thanks," she replied quietly, twisting the cold metal cord of the pay phone absently. She set the receiver down again, a puzzled look in her eyes. Dylan wasn't in school, yet he wasn't hanging around his hotel room. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling of panic in her stomach as she walked quickly to her locker, grabbed the lunch her mother had packed and headed out to the tree that had become her usual spot to eat lunch.

Kelly was already seated under the tree, her legs tucked under her, her short skirt hitched up above her knee, which would have revealed a bit too much skin if she wasn't wearing a pair of leggings. Brenda was felt underdressed around Kelly and Donna, as she just didn't have the means to build her wardrobe as extensively as the two of them could. Brandon was saving for a new car, she was yearning for a whole new closet.

"Hi, Kel," Brenda interrupted her friend, who was picking absently at a salad, pushing the lettuce around in the container, not really eating anything.

"Hi," Kelly replied softly, stabbing at a cherry tomato with her fork, still not bringing it to her mouth.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, settling down on the grass next to Kelly, unpacking her own lunch. Kelly looked at her, confusion clear in her blue eyes.

"I thought you wanted to talk. To apologize. I told Donna, and she thought we should be alone. She's eating lunch with some girls we used to eat with last year, pretending to catch up. Steve came by, but I got rid of him pretty quickly. I haven't seen your brother," she replied.

"Oh, well, I guess that's good. I did want to talk." She paused. "I'm a little worried about Dylan though. I just tried to call him, and he didn't answer." Brenda noticed a flash of irritation cross Kelly's face, but it was gone before Brenda could really pinpoint it.

"He probably went surfing," Kelly shrugged. "He was always ditching school last year to go surfing. I'd say at least every other week." Brenda felt a surge of relief course through her, but at the same time, she was slightly annoyed that Kelly was so matter-of-fact, as if she knew Dylan so well.

"Oh, that makes sense. I bet you're right," Brenda answered, trying to keep the conversation neutral and not set Kelly on edge as she began her apology. She sighed and put her hand on her friend's knee, and Kelly looked up and met Brenda's eyes. "Kel, I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered, tugging at a blade of grass, her blonde hair falling across her face. Brenda's own eyes widened.

"I really, really am," she continued. "I didn't mean to hurt you so badly, and I didn't mean for you to take what I said in that way."

"What did you mean, Brenda," Kelly started to say, "What did you mean when you said I wasn't your brother's type?" Brenda studied her friend's wounded expression. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Honestly, Kel, I don't really know what I meant," she replied truthfully. "I think I was actually just so surprised to see you flirting with my brother, right in front of me…"

"I wasn't really flirting with him," she sniffed defensively. Brenda raised an eyebrow at her skeptically.

"You're going to tell me you're not interested in my brother?" Kelly looked away, a distant gaze on her face.

"What if I am? What would be so bad about that?" she asked softly, gnawing at her lower lip. Brenda contemplated the question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer.

Fact was, there _was_ something about Kelly pursuing her brother that did irk Brenda. She couldn't fully explain why, but she knew part of it was her own insecurity. She had dealt with a few incidents back in Minnesota with girls who had befriended her with the sole purpose of getting close to Brandon. He had definitely been one of the more sought-after guys in their high school, and he was fairly particular about who he had dated. Brenda just didn't want to even consider that Kelly had bonded so tightly with her simply as a means to worming her way into Brandon's graces. She hoped she was just being paranoid and jumping to conclusions.

"Brenda?" Kelly asked more emphatically.

"Huh?" Kelly frowned, and her pretty face clouded with impatience.

"I asked you a question," she said pointedly. "Why would there be a problem if I was interested in Brandon?"

"I don't know, Kelly. It's not worth worrying about if you're not, though, so…" she trailed off.

"Yes, okay," Kelly announced touchily. "I'm interested in your brother. In case you hadn't noticed, Brenda, he's really hot and he's like the nicest guy I've ever met." She lowered her eyes. "And yeah, it really hurt my feelings when you said I wasn't his type, and let's be honest, you and I both know what you meant, even if you didn't really mean it." Kelly drew a shaky breath and blinked back what Brenda now noticed were tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. "You didn't mean to say it, but I know you meant I'm not good enough for Brandon. That a guy like him would never date a girl with a reputation like mine." Brenda's heart ached for her friend, watching as Kelly tried to brush away the tears with the back of her hand.

"Kel, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on Kelly's back. Kelly sniffled and shook her head.

"You know what hurts the most, Brenda?" she said in a hushed voice. "I brought this upon myself. No one forced me to be that girl I was freshman year."

"What about that guy…" Brenda didn't finish her thought, but she knew Kelly would know she was referring to the time Kelly had basically been raped by a football player who had pretended to like her.

"I may not have wanted it, but I never had the strength to say no," she whispered. "I didn't want it most of the times I did it, Bren, but I just never could say no. I made my bed, quite literally, and now I have to lie in it." She sighed and coughed, trying to clear her throat. "You're probably right though."

"About what?"

"Brandon would never want to date a girl like me," she sighed wistfully.

"Kelly, when I said that, I know you thought I meant it was just about you being too slutty for him. And I hope you know I don't think you're anything like the Kelly you keep telling me about. Cause I don't see anyone other than a beautiful, outgoing girl who could have any guy she wanted." Kelly snorted.

"Don't patronize me, Brenda," she shook her head. "You're not helping."

"It's true! Guys are always looking at you, Kelly, and you're easily the best looking girl at West Beverly," Brenda continued, trying to raise her friend's spirit.

"They look at me because they've heard the talk. None of the really great guys will give me a second glance." She laughed bitterly. "I attract the sleaze bags, the psycho ex-boyfriends, and the underage stalkers, like that David Silver kid who's always leering at me. The Brandon Walshes of this world aren't knocking on my door."

"Listen, Kelly, about Brandon," Brenda sighed, and paused for a moment. "It's not that you're not his type, really. I've just never seen any indication from him that he's interested in you, and my brother's never been all that good at hiding his feelings when it comes to girls that he likes."

"Oh," Kelly said meekly, looking away, a sadness apparent in her eyes. Brenda could tell she had just deflated the blonde's hopes.

"And even if Brandon thought you were hot, which he probably would at least admit to, he's always been pretty firm about not dating my friends." She grimaced. "There was an incident with a former friend of mine back in Minnesota, and Brandon saw how hurt I was by the fact she had only been hanging around me to get to him."

"Brenda, I'd never do anything…" Kelly started to protest.

"I know, Kelly, I didn't say you would. I'm just telling you where he's coming from."

"Dylan is good friends with Brandon, and that didn't stop you," she offered, raising an eyebrow. Brenda shrugged.

"What can I say? Guys just don't think about friendship the same ways we do," she replied. "Kel, I can't say how I'd really feel if anything ever happened between you and Brandon, cause if I'm being straight-forward, I don't think it will."

"That's pretty harsh," she murmured. "But the truth hurts, right?"

"Yeah, it does. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, I guess I can't be. You've been honest, and I guess I appreciate it." She heaved a sigh. "I need to use the bathroom before my next class." She stood and brushed the grass from her leggings, picking up her untouched salad. Brenda nodded at the plate.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm not that hungry," she replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"So we're okay?" Brenda asked hopefully. Kelly nodded.

"Yeah, we are. Thanks." Brenda stood and enveloped her friend into a fierce hug.

"I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Kelly," she said firmly. "You're my best friend." She paused, releasing the blonde and cracking a smile. "And you know what? There'd be worse things in life than my brother falling for my best friend."

"Right," Kelly smiled wryly. "Like Hell freezing over? Cause from what you just said, that's probably more likely." Brenda squeezed her hand.

"I just meant that I think if it had ever come to that, I'd have been okay with it."

"Well, thanks, I guess," Kelly shrugged. "Next time you have one of your brother-sister heart-to-hearts, can you tell him to be a little less irresistible?"

"Not likely, he's been that way since he was born," she lamented. "Try growing up in his shadow." Kelly tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not going to stop flirting, just so you know. Friends can flirt, right?" she asked hopefully. Brenda laughed.

"Sure, go for it."

"Have fun with Dylan tonight, in case I don't see you after school." Brenda clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I totally forgot! I really needed to ask you advice about something," she pleaded. Kelly raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Advice?" Brenda blushed and lowered her eyes.

"It's about sex," she whispered hoarsely. Kelly's face fell, and for a moment, Brenda regretted phrasing it like Kelly was some expert as a result of her past actions. "I mean, I just need someone to talk to."

"You really think I'm the best person to ask?" she asked dryly. "Sex usually leads to trouble, have you learned nothing from my cautionary tales of woe?"

"But if it's with someone you love…"

"Are you planning on sleeping with Dylan?" Kelly hissed, trying to keep her voice down, her shock evident. "Bren, don't you think it's a little soon? I mean, I know Dylan McKay has swept you off your feet, but, I mean…you're…" Kelly fumbled to finish her sentence. Brenda nodded.

"Yeah, you can say it. I'm a virgin."

"Bren, I really have to go," Kelly sighed, biting her lip and shifting uncomfortably. "But if you want my advice, that's all the more reason to wait. I wish I had. Don't rush into something because you're caught up in the moment. If Dylan's got a brain in his head and a soul in his body, he'll respect that and he'll be patient." She gave Brenda a smile and turned to head into the school. Suddenly she pivoted back and faced Brenda again. "Be strong, Bren. Even if tonight is utterly romantic and you think you're going to float away you're so overcome in the moment, think about me. Take your time."

"Thanks, Kel," she whispered, genuinely touched by her friend's impassioned plea. Kelly winked at her, a kind expression on her beautiful face.

"Call me tomorrow and tell me everything."

"I will, I promise. Have fun at that party."

"Not likely!" Kelly called over her shoulder, waving as she walked into the building and Brenda lost sight of her. Brenda sighed, a wave of relief overcoming her, feeling as if a giant weight had been released from her shoulders.

She sat back down, knowing she only had a few minutes of lunch remaining, and she was starving. She popped the tab on her diet soda and unwrapped the chicken salad sandwich from its tin-foil pouch, taking a bite and chewing while she contemplated Kelly's advice.

Sex was not something Brenda believed had to wait until marriage. Neither of her parents had ever exactly preached purity, but she also knew them well enough to know they wouldn't expect her to take intimacy so lightly. She also suspected that her father would be more edgy where Dylan McKay was concerned. Jim Walsh already harbored feelings that Dylan was not the right man for his daughter.

She continued eating her lunch quickly, her mind wandering as she ate. She knew she was overthinking things; she and Dylan really were just going down to Santa Monica for a romantic dinner, and Brenda knew she'd be expected to make her midnight curfew. She wasn't even sure in what context the opportunity for sex could have presented itself, but she definitely didn't envision her first time in the back of Dylan's Porsche. This was the 90s, after all, not the 1960s.

The bell rang, and Brenda crumpled up the tin foil and brown bag, taking a last sip of her soda before tossing her refuse into the garbage cans near the main doors. She breezed through the halls, heading to her locker to collect her books for her afternoon classes.

"Hey Bren," Brandon called, waving casually from across the hall where he was standing just outside the office of the _Blaze_. Andrea Zuckerman was at his side, and Brenda concluded that they must have worked through lunch, as Brandon was apt to do often lately. He walked over to her locker, Andrea hanging behind, lingering as if she wasn't quite ready to leave his side. Brenda smiled to herself inwardly; it was evident Kelly was not the only girl succumbing to her brother's charms.

"Where were you?" Brenda asked, fairly certain she knew the answer.

"I was trying to compile a list of leads for a compelling student athlete profile, since someone," he jerked his head playfully in Andrea's direction, "gave me a fluff assignment for next week's edition."

"It's not fluff!" Andrea protested. Brandon smirked.

"Sure it's not," he said stoically, hiding a broader smile. "Did you ever get the chance to apologize to Kelly?"

"Yes, I did, thank you very much, and things are good now," she replied, checking her reflection in the mirror on her locker door, running her tongue over her teeth to remove any hidden food. She flashed a smile in the mirror and was satisfied with what she saw.

"Well, that's good," Brandon nodded. "I bet you feel much better now, right?"

"Much," she agreed. "But I can't chit-chat unless I want to go for a personal best and get a third late pass today. I'll see you after school, Brandon."

"I'm leaving right after 8th period, so try to be by the car on time, okay?" he called after her.

"Sure, Dad," she retorted, sticking out her tongue as she flounced down the hall to her next class, hopeful the rest of the afternoon would pass quickly.

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_**Author's Note:**_ Well, I wrote and rewrote that Brenda/Kelly conversation more than a few times…I hope it addressed the falling out adequately and hinted at some things to come. I had a few other things planned to come out in their chat, but I felt like it was getting wordy, so they'll be worked into the "morning after" phone call. :-P

Merry Christmas to everyone, and I'd especially like to thank some of you who aren't registered users for your kind thoughts on this and Viva Las Vegas. I like to try to personally respond to each review, but the anonymous reviewers I can't answer. So for those like brankel1, Sandra and piper, I do really appreciate you guys too! And as always, Jianna, thanks for all that you do to inspire me and motivate me. I'm thankful our paths crossed, and your friendship means a lot to me. Enjoy your time with your family this Christmas.

Happy Holidays! ~Court~


	5. Waiting for Tonight

**Chapter 5: Waiting for Tonight**

Brenda sighed and threw what must have been her third rejected outfit on the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress with a huff. Nothing looked right, and she was getting dejected. She wanted to look amazing, so much so that she would stop Dylan in his tracks.

She had finally gotten in touch with him a little bit after she and Brandon had arrived home, and as suspected, Dylan had indeed ditched school to go surfing. A mental health day, he had called it, and he had assured Brenda it was no big deal. But she couldn't help but worry that his complete lack of interest in his education and his utter lack of concern for what his frequent absences might be doing to his academic record would eventually catch up with him. She had been relieved that he had finally agreed to register for the SATs, but she knew the battle wouldn't be won until he was actually sitting in a chair taking the test.

Brenda stood and stalked to her closet again, flipping past the meager selection of dressy outfits that she had. She sifted through them again, pulling out a flowy peasant blouse with a plunging neckline. She held it flush against her body, wrinkling her nose at the reflection staring back at her. The neckline would serve its purpose to give Dylan an eyeful, but overall, the shirt really wasn't that fancy or stylish, she deduced regretfully. She tossed it behind her, adding to the pile of castoffs mounting on the comforter.

The phone rang shrilly and cut into her impending wardrobe catastrophe. She dove for the receiver, hoping she could get to it before Brandon did.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly.

"Hey, Bren, it's me."

"Kelly, hi," she replied, flopping onto her stomach, pushing the unwanted clothes further down the bed to allow herself more space. "What's up?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I just felt bad that I, uh, had to go so abruptly at the end of our talk at lunch today, and I wanted to make sure there was nothing else you wanted to chat about before your big date tonight." Brenda smiled.

"Thanks, Kel. Actually right now, I'm having a crisis of fashion," she lamented, narrowing her eyes in the direction of her woefully-misrepresented closet. Kelly giggled.

"Can't decide what to wear, huh?"

"Not that I can't decide," Brenda complained. "Can't find anything even remotely appropriate. My clothes are so…lame," she finished.

"Well, you're welcome to come over here and pick through my offerings if you think you have the time," Kelly offered. Brenda snickered.

"Kel, we're hardly the same size. You've easily got a few inches on me, height-wise, and I've got a few more pounds to drop to get closer to you," she sighed. "But thanks for the offer."

"Please, Brenda, you look fine. But you know, Jackie still has a lot of her modeling stuff in our spare closet, some pretty flashy stuff, and you're about the same size she was when she was strutting her stuff." Brenda sat up, a grin spreading on her face.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Kelly replied. "I mean, some of it is pretty hideous, right out of the 70s, but there are a few choice pieces, especially some great little black dresses." She paused for a moment. "Tell you what. I'll bring them over to save you some time, is that okay?"

"Yes!" Brenda cried. "Kel, that would be awesome! Thank you so much," she bubbled.

"No big deal," she answered breezily. "Let me raid the closet, and I'll be by in, like, fifteen minutes?"

"Perfect!" Brenda exclaimed.

"See you in a few." Brenda squealed and hung up the phone, dancing around the room giddily.

"What are you so happy about?" Brandon stuck his head in the slightly-ajar bathroom door. Brenda stopped spinning and stared at her brother.

"Nothing you'd care about," she said smugly. Brandon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He pushed the door open wider and leaned in the doorframe. "All ready for the big night out?" His eyes wandered to the heap of clothes on her bed.

"Not really, if you must know," she replied, crossing to her closet door and sliding it shut.

"What time is Dylan picking you up?" he changed the subject, not really wanting to risk Brenda launching into a tirade about how bad her clothes were and how much she needed new ones.

"He'll be here a little after 6. He said he made a 7 pm reservation, and he wanted to leave time for any traffic getting down there."

"Yeah, I guess it is Friday night," Brandon agreed.

"What time's your party?"

"Don't ask me when it actually starts," he laughed. "I got orders from Steve that we should plan to arrive around 9." Brenda chuckled and shook her head.

"Isn't Steve the party master," she mused. Brandon grinned.

"I tried to explain to him that no one would care what time we arrived, and fashionably late is really a relative concept, but he was pretty adamant." He shrugged. "It's easier not to argue with Steve and just let the chips fall."

"So true," Brenda nodded. "Bran, if you really don't want to go to this party, why go?"

"Again, it's that Steve thing. It's easier not to argue, and you know, the Kings aren't even playing tonight. If Dad would spring for satellite, I could have watched the North Stars, but he's stuck in the 57-channels of basic cable."

"You and your stupid hockey," she frowned. "Anything is better than sitting home with Mom and Dad on a Friday night."

"It's not that I'm not all for having a good time," he began. "But I haven't had the best track record with parties since we've been here, Bren, and really, partying with random strangers is usually worse."

"They won't all be strangers," Brenda called over her shoulder as she strode towards the bathroom to begin re-applying her makeup. "Kelly and Donna are going." Brandon paused, processing what Brenda had just said. He did remember Steve pointing out that Kelly was going, and he also remembered Steve's supposed "foolproof" plan for winning his ex-girlfriend back. He smiled to himself at the thought, and Brenda caught him smirking.

"What?" she demanded, setting down her eyelash curler as she turned to face her brother. "What's so funny?"

"Tonight might not be so bad," he demurred, leaning against the counter. "I'm pretty sure Steve's going to make an ass of himself trying to plead his case to Kelly."

"What?" Brenda stifled a laugh. "Is he insane? Kelly wants nothing to do with him."

"I know that, you know that, most of West Beverly knows that, but someone forgot to tell Steve." Brandon met Brenda's eyes in the mirror, and both burst out laughing.

"Someone forgot to tell Steve what?" Brenda and Brandon both turned to see Kelly standing in the doorway that led to Brenda's room, a stack of black dresses draped over her left forearm.

"Wow! That was fast," Brenda marveled, taking the dresses from Kelly. Kelly slid her eyes towards Brandon, giving him a coy smile as she looked back at Brenda.

"Yeah, well, I figured you needed to get moving, and I have to get back home to make myself presentable for this party tonight." She glanced at Brandon again. "Are you going, Brandon?" she asked offhandedly, fixing her eyes on him once more. He noticed at that moment just how blue they were, and how she managed to hold his gaze, almost like a spell.

"Uh, yeah, I am," he nodded, looking away to break the eye contact. "Steve convinced me to go." Kelly's face clouded over at the mention of her ex.

"What were you guys saying about him when I walked in?" she asked suspiciously. Brandon sighed, glancing at Brenda for help, who was nonchalantly lining her eyes with a kohl-colored pencil.

"Ask Brandon, Steve's his friend," Brenda replied, smirking at Brandon in the mirror.

"Steve's got this stupid idea that he's going to get you alone tonight at Tom's and convince you what a mistake you made dumping him," he confessed, watching an amused expression cross her pretty face.

"Dumping Steve is the only thing I know I've done right in my life the past two years," Kelly declared, shaking her head in disbelief. "God, when is he just going to take the hint already?" Brandon shook his head.

"Apparently, you're a hard girl to get over," he replied, quoting Steve verbatim.

"If he dated other girls, that might help," Kelly sighed. "But he's too dense to realize that, and girls aren't exactly lining up either."

"Kel, I'm going to go try these dresses on," Brenda interrupted. "You coming?"

"In a minute," she replied, gaze never leaving Brandon's. Brenda rolled her eyes and closed her bedroom door, leaving her brother and Kelly alone in the bathroom. Brandon was acutely aware of the tight proximity, although Kelly was still standing nearer to the door leading to Brenda's room. "Brandon, can I ask you a favor?" she asked, taking a step closer to him.

"Sure," he replied uncertainly, his eyes searching hers.

"Please do your best to keep Steve away from me tonight," she pleaded gently. "I actually really don't want to have to hurt him more, or cause a scene, but things never end well when Steve starts drinking and then waxes nostalgic on what might have been." She lowered her eyes. "I know you probably think I'm heartless, the way I act around him, but there's only so much I can take. When you don't love someone back the way they deserve to be loved…" she trailed off, and Brandon noticed how vulnerable and sad she suddenly looked. She glanced back up at him, wide eyes fringed by the blonde bangs just brushing her brows. She really was the most beautiful girl Brandon had ever seen.

"I can try, Kel," he replied, wondering why he had chosen to shorten her name so casually. He liked the way it sounded.

"Thanks, Brandon," she smiled pensively. Without warning, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, just barely grazing the skin before she turned and reached for the knob of Brenda's door. "See you later tonight," she added, her smile slightly more seductive as she slipped inside Brenda's room and the door closed once more. Brandon touched his palm to his cheek where Kelly's lips had just been, shaking his head absently as he headed to his own room. He leapt onto his bed, settling down to stare at the ceiling, contemplating what Kelly had just asked of him. The logistics of her simple request were anything but, he realized.

Keeping Steve away from Kelly for an entire evening was an insurmountable task. Steve was hyper-sensitive when it came to her, and Brandon knew that any interference he tried to run on her behalf would be met badly. Yet, on the other hand, he didn't want to disappoint Kelly, and he did feel sorry for her that she always got put in the position of having to be dragged through the past. Her plea to him was revealing; Brandon had actually never thought her to be heartless, and he empathized with her struggle to keep Steve at arm's length without hurting him more.

It wasn't unlike his situation with Andrea. Brandon was well-aware his friend had a crush on him; he wasn't completely dense. But he felt the need to keep her at arm's length without calling attention to it or forcing himself to confront any feelings he did have for her. Andrea was a great girl. She was smart and funny, and she was pretty in her own bookish way. She was also strong-willed and opinionated, and she liked to be in charge. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but there was a part of Brandon that felt a guy should be able to take care of his girl, and that would never ever fly with Andrea.

He heard giggling come from his sister's room, and a few minutes later, he heard a car's engine revving. He glanced out his window to see Kelly backing her red BMW out of the Walsh's driveway before speeding off, no doubt heading back to her house to get party-perfect.

Turning his mental attention back to Andrea, he figured the nice thing to do would be to call and acknowledge the offer she had made that afternoon. He picked up the phone, thought for a moment, conjured up Andrea's grandmother's number and dialed. He waited as it rang several times, crossing his fingers that Andrea answered and not her Grandma Rose. The woman was sweet enough, but she could talk. And talk.

"Hello?"

"Andrea, hi," Brandon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Brandon!" He could hear the pleasant surprise apparent in her voice.

"I just thought I'd call and say thanks for the offer of the movies tonight, but I'm gonna be heading to that party at Tom Hartman's with Steve," he told her, waiting for her reaction.

"Oh," she replied simply, her voice devoid of any emotion. Several moments of silence followed. "That's okay. I probably wasn't going to go anyway. Grandma Rose is having her bridge group over, and I might have to fill in for one of the ladies."

"That sounds fun," Brandon lied smoothly. "Anyway, it would have been fun, I'm sure. Maybe we can go another time." He paused. "You'd never consider coming to Tom's?" He heard Andrea muffle a loud guffaw.

"Hardly, Brandon. Those are exactly the kind of people I was telling you about today when we got talking about Student Council. I can't imagine watching the pretty and the popular get sloshed and do stupid things is a good time."

"Yeah, well, I'm doing my friendly duty to Steve," he reminded her. "He's got this stupid idea that he's going to win Kelly back, and I'm supposed to try to keep him away from her." There was another period of silence.

"Kelly's going to the party?" Brandon didn't think it was really a question. "Figures."

"She and Donna said they were going to be there," he answered. He could tell from the clear shift in Andrea's tone that she didn't care too much for Kelly Taylor. Or she was harboring a healthy dose of jealousy towards the pretty blonde, he decided, remembering the looks Andrea was giving her the other day when he and Kelly had nearly colliding as he and Andrea left the _Blaze _office.

"Did you give any more thought to my suggestion that you run for Student Council?" she asked hopefully, changing the subject abruptly.

"No, Andrea," he replied truthfully. "Not at all. I'll give it some thought this weekend. I promise."

"Okay," she said, disappointment coloring her voice. More silence.

"I should go get ready for this party," he sighed, sensing an awkward tension growing in the span of the short phone conversation.

"Have fun," she replied. "Have a good weekend, Brandon. Remember, Student Council President…" she hedged, sort of singing the last part. Brandon rolled his eyes.

"I'll think about it. Bye Andrea." He replaced the receiver and sighed plaintively. Student Council was actually the last thing he wanted to have to think about all weekend long. But Andrea was like a tenacious pit-bull when she wanted something, and he knew she wouldn't let up until he had announced his candidacy and collected the necessary signatures to run. Heck, she'd probably do the petition for him.

So he wondered, with some amusement, why she didn't pursue him with more fervor.

"Can I get your brotherly opinion on something?" Brenda called from her room, interrupting his thoughts. He headed towards her room, stopping in the doorway as Brenda turned away from her mirror to face him.

"Be honest," she warned, shooting him a knowing glance. "What do you think of this dress?" Brandon furrowed his brow and studied his sister carefully. His eyes swept over the simple black dress hugging Brenda's frame, a row of fringe skimming her thighs at the hem of the garment.

"I'm no fashion expert, but it works on you," he complimented her simply. Brenda pursed her lips and gazed back into the mirror, placing her hands on her hips expectantly as she cocked her head and stared.

"It's not too…" she trailed off, searching for the right word to describe her feelings about the dress.

"Too…?" Brandon coaxed, trying to get her to elaborate. She shook her head.

"I don't know," she frowned. "Kelly brought over all these dresses from when her mom modeled, and she swears this one is back in style. And she raved about how it looked on me. But…"

"But….?" Brandon hid a smile, again trying to persuade her to finish her thought.

"But what if she was just being nice, you know, telling me how great I look cause she's my best friend and all?"

"Bren, you're paranoid," Brandon laughed. "I don't know Kelly as well as you do, but she's pretty straightforward with how she feels about stuff. I'd actually expect her to tell you like it is. So if she said the dress works, I'd take her word for it." He smiled. "Dylan's going to love it no matter what you wear."

"I guess," she sighed, her fingers combing through her bangs carelessly. She shot a quick glance at the clock, and a look of panic crossed her face.

"God, Dylan's going to be here in like twenty minutes!" she cried. "I didn't realize just how long I'd been agonizing over this." She spun on her heel and darted towards her closet, dropping to her hands and knees to dig through a pile of shoes. "I guess it's gonna have to be this dress." She froze, a pair of black strappy heels in her left hand. "Was that the doorbell?"

"I, uh, didn't hear anything," Brandon replied, listening carefully. Then faintly, he heard the sound of his mother's voice drifting upstairs from the foyer.

"Brenda!" Cindy's voice called. "Dylan's here."

"Ohgodohgodohgod," Brenda shrieked, hopping on one foot as she attempted to fasten the strap of her heel on the other. She swatted at Brandon, her eyes wide. "Go, stall him, please!" Brandon rolled his eyes at his sister's usual melodrama, but he gave her a tight smile.

"Sure," he agreed, striding into the hallway and down the staircase.

"Brandon, my man," Dylan greeted him, extending his hand to slap Brandon's own outreached palm in welcome.

"Good day off?" Brandon raised an eyebrow at his friend. Dylan grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"Much needed. The waves were perfect today," he replied, a contemplative smile crossing his face. "I know your sister was annoyed when I told her, but I just had to be by myself today. There were some dad issues last night," he added.

"Your dad's back in town?" Brandon knew Jack McKay flitted in and out of Beverly Hills more than a transient, and it was all under the guise of his business. Dylan was living in a hotel suite, for crying out loud. Brandon himself had yet to meet the elder McKay, but from what he knew, Dylan had a tumultuous relationship with his old man.

"He was supposed to be back this weekend," Dylan shook his head. "And he called last night and said he's staying in Mexico a bit longer, and he expects me to come down there to see him instead." Dylan leaned against the railing, his eyes staring past Brandon into the Walshes' living room.

"You mean this weekend?" Brandon asked, surprised. Dylan nodded.

"Yeah."

"You going to go?" Brandon knew Brenda would be none too happy spending a weekend away from her boyfriend. Dylan sighed.

"I don't know, man," he started. "Usually my dad's more trouble than he's worth, but we do always have a good time down there together. It's tempting. I'd probably have to miss school for a few days, though. It'd be a waste to get down there tomorrow and come back home Sunday."

"How many days have you missed so far this year?" Brandon couldn't resist asking. He knew Dylan's attendance was none of his business, but he was absent frequently.

"I dunno," Dylan replied. "Enough to get a warning letter from the guidance office, not enough for them to sic the attendance officer on me. There are only a few months left." He paused. "So is your sister ready? I know I'm early, but I heard there was an accident tying up Wilshire towards Santa Monica. I might take Olympic instead."

"Ah, she was just putting on the finishing touches," Brandon lied, knowing Brenda was probably rushing around frantically upstairs.

"Cool," he nodded. "You have plans for the evening?"

"Yeah, going to some party with Steve," Brandon sighed. "Not really my cup of tea tonight, but I promised him."

"Is that the one at Tom Hartman's? He usually throws a decent party, from what I've heard," he added. Brandon knew it would only have been through hearsay that Dylan would have known about social events at West Beverly. He was hardly the kind of guy who felt the need to show up at most teenage parties.

"It'll be whatever it is, I guess," Brandon decided.

"Well, at any rate, there should be some decent girls there," Dylan grinned. "Just work that Walsh charm, and you'll probably get lucky."

"I'll keep that in mind," Brandon said dryly. "I'm actually supposed to keep an eye on Steve. Kelly's worried he's gonna try something."

"Those two are like a soap opera," Dylan mused. "And Steve Sanders doesn't know how to take a hint." He leaned towards the stairs and called, "Bren? You coming?"

"In a minute! Almost ready!" came the muffled reply. Dylan shook his head, smiling.

"She fails to realize it wouldn't matter if she was wearing a paper sack," he smirked. "That's the beauty of caring about someone else." Brandon nodded, but he made careful observance that Dylan did not use the word "love." Could have been intentional, he thought, but it could have also been Dylan's way of avoiding mentioning that sort of detail in front of his girlfriend's brother. Either way, he wasn't going to ask.

"You really think you're going to keep Steve away from Kelly?" Dylan asked.

"I told her I'd try," he replied, shrugging.

"The White Knight routine?" Dylan raised an eyebrow, his lips playing into a smile.

"The what?" Brandon queried. Dylan's smile widened.

"Nothing, man," he shook his head. "It's just Kelly's always been pretty good at defending herself when it comes to Steve's lingering advances." Brandon knitted his brows, considering what Dylan was implying.

"What are you saying?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Nothing," Dylan replied. "None of my business."

"No, no," Brandon began. "You definitely meant something. Spill." Dylan leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"She's a beautiful girl, man. You couldn't really ask for more than Kelly Taylor. And she deserves a stand-up guy for once."

"Oh, she's pretty alright," Brandon agreed, picturing the blue-eyed blonde again. "But I'm not interested in Kelly," he said slowly, noting how unconvincing the words sounded as they rolled off his lips. Dylan shrugged.

"She's interested in you," he said bluntly. "And Kelly doesn't usually give up when she wants something." Just then, Brenda appeared at the top of the stairs, cutting the conversation short, and for that, Brandon was thankful. Dylan sucked in a breath and let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"You look amazing," he whispered as she reached the bottom of the stairs, taking her hands and kissing her lightly on the lips. Brandon suddenly felt like an interloper, so he began to climb the stairs.

"You two have a nice evening. Drive carefully, man," he called down to Dylan, giving Brenda a quick smile that she didn't catch as she was gazing adoringly at her boyfriend.

"Will do," Dylan replied.

"Night Brandon," Brenda echoed, eyes still on Dylan. "Mom, Dad! We're leaving!" Within seconds, Jim and Cindy Walsh were in the foyer, and Brenda knew instantly that her parents had been hanging around the kitchen, just waiting to say goodbye.

"Hello, ," Dylan said politely.

"Hi, Dylan," her father replied curtly. He leaned forward and kissed Brenda on the cheek. "Curfew's at midnight."

"Da-a-ad," Brenda pouted, giving her father a petulant look. "One a.m.? Just tonight?"

"Twelve o'clock," Jim affirmed. Dylan slid his arm around Brenda's waist.

"I'll have her home by then, I promise," he smiled. Jim looked skeptically at his daughter and nodded.

"Have fun honey," Cindy beamed, hugging her tightly.

"We will, thanks Mom." Brenda reached for the door and ushered Dylan outside, her parents stepping towards the open door to huddle in the threshold, watching them make their way to Dylan's car.

"You really do look incredible," Dylan whispered, his breath hot on her ear, sending tingles down her spine as he opened the passenger door for her. She slipped inside, and he slammed the door, crossing around to his own side.

"I missed you today," she confessed softly as he settled into his seat, and the engine purred to life. He placed his hand on the gear shift and locked his eyes on hers.

"I'm here with you now," he pointed out, his voice husky. Brenda smiled and shivered again. The breeze in her hair as Dylan pulled out of the driveway, she gave a little wave to her parents and felt a thrill of anticipation shoot through her as they sped off down the road.

The night was theirs, she thought with a secretive smile.

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_**Author's Note: **_Okay, so I had also planned on getting inside Kelly's head as she got ready for the party, and Andrea's reaction to the phone call, and the angle I'm taking introducing nerdy David Silver (ha!) into the mix, and then I realized this chapter hadn't "shifted" once from the action at the Walsh house, and I decided to leave it at that. Chapter 6 had been planned as the party & B/D's date, but that might have to wait til Chapter 7 so I can get the other plots laid out.

I rewatched "Stand (Up) and Deliver" this weekend for inspiration, and I was appalled to remember how much I hated the awful angle the writers took for Brenda in her cry for attention via Brandon's run for president. Season 1 Brenda's only act of rebellion was dating Dylan, IMO, and she never would have considered dropping out of school and being a stand-up comedienne for a second. Not when she was riding Dylan about SATs and college. And that whole campaign thing wrapped up so neatly and pathetically. So I'm definitely rewriting _that_.

As always, reviews are fuel for creative fire…hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas and Santa was good to y'all. ~Court~


	6. Get This Party Started

_**Author's Note**_: Lots of fleshing out of characters in this chapter, but no B/D action, sorry B/D fans…you have to wait for Chapter 7. I hope you'll all enjoy this one anyway, and remember, nice feedback will spur me to write the next chapter faster, which definitely includes the little date in Santa Monica…hint, hint. Otherwise, they might have to wait til Chapter 8 or beyond. Wait, was that a threat? *evil smile*

This chapter certainly has Kelly on the brain, as we're inside her head a bit, and other characters are talking about her…and as easy as I find it to write Season 1 Brenda, Season 1 Kelly is more challenging for me. I'm trying to keep the right blend of the ice princess/snob we sometimes saw, as well as the more vulnerable, sweet girl that lingered underneath and eventually emerged in Season 4.

FYI, I am certainly taking my own little liberties, as some of the plot points introduced in this chapter are addressed in Seasons 2 or 3. I wanted them now, and I'm writing, so there.

**Chapter 6: Get This Party Started**

Kelly tilted her head and turned a critical eye towards her reflection in the full-length mirror that ran the length of the back of her bedroom door. She smoothed the slinky fabric over her hips, sucking in a breath and twisting sideways. Her stomach was flat enough, she supposed, but she was nowhere near as skinny as Donna, and she probably never would be, she lamented with a pout. She frowned at herself again and adjusted the bust line of her dress, contemplating how much cleavage she wanted to reveal. Biting her lip, she reevaluated her decision to fix her nose instead of augmenting her chest. Her father, on one of his usual guilt trips, had offered to pay for one surgical procedure, and only one. She had considered her options, narrowing it down to removing the tiny bump (which Donna always swore didn't exist) from her nose over breast implants. She had simply crossed her fingers that she was still growing and the modest B cup she currently filled would increase to a C by graduation. It was never good enough to have a pretty face in Beverly Hills. Kelly had learned that the hard way growing up the daughter of a former model.

She studied her reflection once more, tapping her fingers impatiently on her hips as she finally heaved a sigh and decided she was presentable. A demure smile played on her lips as she thought about her conversation with Brandon Walsh earlier that evening. She could still smell the musky scent of his cologne that she had gotten a whiff of as she had leaned in and kissed his cheek, and her stomach somersaulted in response to the memory.

The smile faded as she found herself fighting off thoughts of Steve Sanders. She was positive he was the primary reason to blame for Brandon stoically resisting her innocent flirting heretofore. Brenda had told her about Brandon's reluctance to date any of his sister's friends after some bad experience back in Minnesota, but Kelly knew if she could convince Brenda how good she was for Brandon, Brenda would most likely champion her cause.

So Steve remained the thorn in her side. She knew her ex-boyfriend too well, and if he had told Brandon he was planning to try and woo her back at the party, she figured Brandon was well-versed in her sticky history with Steve. Unfortunately for her, one of Brandon's finer qualities, his loyalty, was definitely working against her. It would take a monumental effort to sway him to "betray" his friend, which is how she knew Brandon would see it. She gritted her teeth and cursed silently at the fact Steve just could not accept that the two of them had no future. He had been a decent enough boyfriend for the time they were together. He could be sweet when he wanted to, and he had been a decent enough kisser, albeit a selfish lover. Kelly knew she had been his first, so the whole "newness" of sex to Steve left him always wanting more, and not usually bothering to make sure her needs were met. He had also been cruel at times, especially when he had been drinking. She had finally tired of the Jekyll and Hyde act, and she had broken it off with him, much to his chagrin. She knew it would take a lot of work to both successfully avoid Steve and to make a play for Brandon, but she was going to damn well try.

She was also going to be careful to monitor how much she drank. She shuddered at the memory of the last time she had drunk too much at a party and wound up in bed with Steve. That was a costly mistake, and she shouldered part of the blame for giving him any shred of hope at a reconciliation after that stupid move.

Kelly sighed and crossed to her vanity, picking up a tube of mascara to add another coat to her lashes. She spun around, wand in her hand as the bedroom door starting opening.

"God, Mom, don't you knock?" she complained, rolling her eyes and sweeping the wand over her lashes in a swift motion.

"Excuse me, your highness," Jackie Taylor declared, hovering in the open door. Kelly glanced back at her mother, replacing the cap on the mascara and setting it back down.

"You're awfully dressed up for a Friday at home," Kelly said, raising an eyebrow. Jackie smirked.

"Very funny. I came to say goodnight."

"I didn't know you were going out," she replied quietly, stepping into her heels.

"You're not the only one with a social life, Kelly," her mother chastised. Kelly rolled her eyes again and began jamming things into her purse absentmindedly.

"Who's the loser this week?"

"Kelly," Jackie warned.

"Forgive me if I don't think positively, Mom. You've brought home so many winners, it's hard to keep track."

"Look, young lady, I came to say goodbye and tell you to have a good time at your party. I don't need your attitude right now." Jackie turned to leave the room, but she managed to call back over her shoulder. "Home by midnight, Kel."

"If I have a curfew, so do you!" she retorted, making a face at her mother's retreating form. Kelly frowned and shook her head. Every time she thought she was making in-roads to improving her relationship with her mother, the years of resentment bubbled over. The parade of endless tools that her mother dated didn't help things; her mom would get excited over a new guy, only to have the liaison fizzle or die out, usually with Jackie getting hurt and sending her back to the nearest bottle. It was a vicious cycle, one Kelly had been trying to yank her mother off of for years. She was quickly growing weary of being the adult in the equation.

She heard the soft rumble of the garage door opening, audible only because her spacious bedroom ran the length of the massive garage, which at the moment, only housed her BMW and her mother's Mercedes. She glanced at the clock, grabbing her purse hastily as she realized it was ten minutes past seven, and she had told Donna she would pick her up _at_ seven. She lunged for the cordless phone which she had previously tossed near her pillow after hanging up with Brenda that afternoon and rapidly punched Donna's number, which she had known by heart almost as long as she knew her own.

"Hey, it's me," she breathed into the phone before Donna had a chance to even say hello.

"Hey, where are you?" Donna asked, impatience audible in her voice.

"I know, I know. Sorry, run-in with Jackie. I'm leaving now."

"Okay, I'll be waiting." The phone clicked off without another word, and Kelly raced downstairs to the garage where she hopped into her red Beemer, gunned the engine and threw the car into reverse. Her mother hadn't even bothered to close the garage so as she cleared the door, she pushed the automatic opener clipped to the visor above her head and sped off in the direction of the Martins' house.

***

Andrea folded up the newspaper, tossing it onto the floor in annoyance. There was no need for the Lifestyle section to be spread open now, the two-page spread announcing the movie times would only serve as a glaring reminder that another Friday night had come, and she had no plans other than lingering around her grandmother's house while Grandma Rose and her friends played bridge and giggled about the latest gossip from the Jewish Senior Center. Sure, she'd watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, and she'd probably get some reading done, but it was the same sad story each weekend. Except this weekend, since her parents were away, she was relegated to spending it at her grandmother's home rather than her own. Sixteen years old, and her parents still didn't trust her alone in a house for a couple of days. It was embarrassing.

"Andrea? Can you help me set up the card table please?" Her grandmother had appeared in the living room.

"Sure, Grandma," she sighed, rising from the couch and walking towards the small dining room where the folded-up card table leaned against the rear wall. She grabbed one side while Grandma Rose reached for the other, and they turned the table upright. Andrea reached underneath and guided the retractable legs down on the left side, propping the weight of the table against her midsection so Grandma Rose could repeat the process with the right legs.

"Thank you, dear," Grandma Rose beamed at her gratefully.

"Any time, Grandma," she replied. Andrea could never really say no to her grandmother, no matter how small or menial her requests were. She owed Grandma Rose everything for allowing her to use her grandmother's address in Beverly Hills in order to attend West Beverly Hills High School. It had been her father's idea; he wanted the best education for his daughter, and he knew Andrea wouldn't get it living in Van Nuys. He had managed to convince his mother to register Andrea as a student at West Beverly using the Beverly Hills mailing address for her tiny bungalow in the Hills. Her father had then proceeded her drop her off each morning at the corner two blocks over from the high school, and Andrea would walk the remaining way to the school. He bought her a bus pass to use to get home, and thus after school, she would walk three blocks in the opposite direction, board the 3:10 bus and ride the nearly half-hour route to their house. Andrea's mother had been less than thrilled with the arrangement, mainly because Andrea suspected she was irritated at the idea of her mother-in-law being the glue holding together a precarious ruse. Her mother and Grandma Rose had never gotten along.

"No plans for the evening, dear?" Grandma Rose asked, setting out folding chairs at each of the four sides of the table. Andrea shook her head and leaned against the dining room doorframe.

"Not really," she admitted softly.

"Who was on the phone before?" Her grandmother continuing puttering around, crossing into the tiny kitchen to retrieve two trays, one with fruit and another stacked with various cheeses and crackers.

"Oh, just a guy," she answered vaguely, silently praying that for once, Grandma Rose wouldn't pry.

"Just a guy?" Grandma Rose raised a knowing eyebrow. "I now have boys calling on my granddaughter? It couldn't be any old boy if he knew he'd find you here and not at your own house." Andrea sighed and snagged a piece of cheese from the tray Grandma Rose had just set on the table.

"You've met Brandon, Grandma," she pointed out, an edge of exasperation in her voice. "He's the one who works at the newspaper with me."

"Oh, right," her grandmother nodded, placing teacups on saucers. "He's a nice young man." She paused. "Was he calling you for a date?" Andrea stifled a snort.

"Hardly," she lamented. "I had mentioned seeing a movie tonight, but he called to say he's going to some party."

"You asked him to the movies?" Her grandmother seemed surprised. Andrea shook her head.

"Friends go to the movies all the time, Grandma. This is the 90s," she sighed. "It was no big deal, and he obviously didn't think so either."

"Why aren't you going to this party?" Grandma Rose asked innocently, studying her granddaughter with a perceptive eye.

"Even if I _had_ been invited, that's not really my scene," Andrea sniffed. "I don't really enjoy hanging around a bunch of random strangers and watching them all get drunk."

"Oh, it's one of those parties," Grandma Rose nodded. "Well, you're probably wise, dear. I wish I had a better evening to offer you in return though."

"Are all the ladies coming?" Andrea asked hopefully, knowing any no-shows would extend her an invitation to play, and that would at least occupy her time for the night and keep her mind somewhat off Brandon Walsh and what he might be doing at Tom Hartman's stupid party.

"Yes, honey, they are. No room at the table for you tonight," Grandma Rose squeezed her arm affectionately. "But I'll tell you what. I think I have a twenty in my purse if you want to order yourself a pizza and rent a movie to watch in my bedroom. That VCR isn't great, but it does play."

"Thanks Grandma, maybe I'll do that," she smiled appreciatively. At least her grandmother tried. But eating pizza and watching a movie would most likely only compound her depression over being alone, and it would also probably add a few pounds to a frame she was constantly worrying over anyway. "I'm going to go in your room and watch Jeopardy, okay?"

"That's fine, dear. Just be sure you stick your head out when the ladies get here. They always love to see you, you know. Especially Hazel. She's convinced you are going to be the perfect wife for that gawky grandson of hers someday."

"Great," Andrea wrinkled her nose at the thought of Joel Westerberg and his coke-bottle glasses. If Brandon Walsh was _Top Gun_ handsome, Joel was _Revenge of the Nerds_ dorky with a capital D. Regrettably, those were the guys who showed interest in her. Every time she thought she had a chance with a guy like Brandon Walsh, she was reminded that there were the Kelly Taylors of the world, armed with perfect smiles, perfect teeth and killer figures, and _those_ were the girls who got the guys like Brandon.

She bristled at the thought of Kelly, knowing she would be at the party, also knowing that Kelly had shown a healthy dose of interest in Brandon Walsh. It eased her mind just a little that Brandon had never really shown that much attention to the beautiful blonde, at least no more than he showed Andrea or any other girl. Brandon was nice to everyone, Andrea mused, and he could certainly be flirty if he wanted to. If he hadn't fallen prey to Kelly's advances by now, there was a chance he really had no interest in her.

Of course, she realized with a frown, it was also possible that Kelly hadn't really been trying that hard, and the girl had just yet begun to fight.

***

"I'm telling you, if you gave anything other than Garth Brooks a chance, Scott, you'd probably be surprised at how good most rap and hip-hop can be!" David Silver cradled the receiver against his shoulder as he fiddled with the buttons on his sound system. His best friend gave a telling snort at the other end of the phone.

"It's just noise, David," Scott Scanlon shot back. "Maybe if you gave country music a try, _you_ might be surprised to find you like it."

"Not likely," David retorted dryly. "So what are we going tonight?"

"I thought I was talking to you." David shook his head and thought to himself how simple and naïve his best friend could be at times.

"We are talking. I meant, what are we going to do when we hang up the phone? It's Friday night! We can't stay at home like losers!"

"I don't recall anyone asking us to do anything," Scott said pointedly.

"That's why we have to create our own fun," David suggested. "Did you hear anything going down? You have a few classes with some of the juniors and seniors. Someone had to have said something!"

"Um, I don't think so," he replied.

"C'mon Scott, think!" David urged him. He knew on a given Friday night in Beverly Hills, there were at least a few parties going on and/or a few hot spots throughout the town where kids might be gathering.

"There's probably something worth seeing at the movies. I can grab the paper from my dad's study…"

"The movies? I'm not going to the movies with you on a Friday night!" he interrupted, aghast that Scott would even think seeing a stupid film was acceptable fun for two high-schoolers. Not unless you brought a girl, and didn't watch the movie, David thought with a sly smile.

Of course, he would need a girl first. And halfway through his freshman year at West Beverly Hills High, he had yet to score himself the girlfriend he had assumed would come flocking to him once he was a mature high-schooler. David figured he could probably get one of the other freshmen girls to go out with him, but he had set his sights much, much higher. He didn't want any girl.

David wanted Kelly Taylor.

He had never before seen such a beautiful girl in his life, and from the first day of high school, he had made it his personal mission to ingratiate himself into Kelly's life and make her realize that he was worth the risk that dating a younger underclassman would bring to her social standing. A goofy smile crossed his face as he conjured up her image in his mind's eye.

"David? Are you still there?"

"Yes," David snapped irritably, suddenly beyond annoyed with Scott, his best friend since childhood, who foolishly believed that high school was no different than middle school and it was perfectly acceptable to sit home on a Friday night watching TGIF on ABC or playing _The Legend of Zelda_ on his Nintendo.

"I think I remember overhearing that girl who's always with Kelly Taylor and Brenda Walsh talking about some party at Tom Hartman's house. She's in my algebra class, though I think she's dropping, or something." David's ears perked up at the mention of Kelly Taylor's name and the word "party" in the same sentence.

"That could be promising!" he enthused.

"God, what is that girl's name?" Scott asked.

"Who cares?" David replied. "Should we go?"

"Uh, David, first off, neither one of us was invited," Scott snickered. "Do you even know who Tom Hartman is?"

"It doesn't matter. These parties are usually so big and out-of-control, no one notices a few unwanted guests." David's mind was racing at the possibility of getting near Kelly that night.

"Yeah, but if Kelly and that other girl are there, Steve Sanders won't be far behind. And if he sees you, you know it'd be all over for you. He'd know you had crashed, given what happened at that other party a few months ago."

"I remember, thanks," David sighed sarcastically.

"David?"

"Hold on, Scott," he murmured, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "What, Dad?" he yelled.

"I'd like you to come downstairs for a moment, please." David groaned and pulled his hand away.

"I'll call you right back. My dad wants something," he grumbled.

"Okay," Scott replied. David hung up the phone, hit the pause button on his CD player and shuffled down the hall to the top of the staircase, staring down into the opulent foyer where his dad was standing with a blonde woman that he did not recognize.

"You can come down the stairs and say a proper hello," his father chided, shooting him a warning glance that did not go unnoticed by David. He jammed his hands into his pockets and slowly descended the stairs, not really interested in being introduced to a woman who'd most likely be in and out of his father's life within a few weeks. His dad never seemed to linger on his girlfriends for more than a few dates, and there had been plenty of them since his parents had divorced a few years back. Of course, there had been plenty of them even when they were married, he remembered bitterly, given his father's wandering eye and proclivity for cheating.

"Jackie, this is my son David," Mel Silver announced when David reached the bottom of the staircase. David's eyes swept critically over the frosted-blonde standing next to his father. She was pretty enough for an older lady, he supposed, but nothing special; at least, nothing special enough to keep Mel Silver's eyes on her and only her.

"Hi, David, it's so nice to meet you," she said warmly, extending a well-manicured hand. David shook it unenthusiastically. "Your father has told me so much about you." David nodded politely, hiding his surprise. He didn't even know his father had been seeing anyone steadily enough _to_ mention him.

"Likewise," he managed to say in return. His father strode to the large coat closet near the staircase and removed a light overcoat.

"I'm taking Jackie to dinner, and then we might try dancing," he smiled and gave her a wink. David tried not to gag. "Don't wait up," he winked again, this time at his son.

"Don't worry, I won't," he shrugged.

"No plans for the evening," Mel asked casually, slipping into his jacket.

"Scott just mentioned this party. We might go," David replied, offering no further details.

"Mel said you're a student at West Beverly?" the woman (Jackie? he thought his father had said) asked.

"Jackie's daughter goes to West Beverly too," Mel added. Great, David thought sardonically. So do, like, 1500 other kids.

"She's going to a party tonight too," Jackie nodded. "That's why I asked. I'm not sure how many parties are going on tonight, but I thought it might be the same one." She paused. "Of course, Kelly is a bit older than you, so you probably don't have the same friends." David's heart stopped.

"Your daughter's name is Kelly," he croaked, his heart restarting and beginning to race a bit. Jackie nodded again.

"Yes. Kelly Taylor. Do you know her?" David tried to hide the mix of horror and delight that was now dueling it out in the pit of his stomach. This woman had birthed the goddess known as Kelly Taylor? And she was dating his father? It was unthinkable.

"Uh, yeah," he said slowly. "I've seen her around."

"She's a knockout, David," Mel interjected. "Jackie showed me pictures. Hardly the kind of girl you'd miss."

"No, I know who she is," David nodded, trying to play it cool.

"Well, maybe one night you should join us for dinner?" Jackie suggested. "Who knows? Maybe you and Kelly might have a lot in common and become friends?"

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, secretly thinking friends was not what he really wanted to be with Kelly Taylor. He studied Jackie out of the corner of his eye again, contemplating the potential damage to his plans should she become serious with his father. Most people would condemn a guy hitting on his future stepsister. No use in jumping to conclusions, though. Mel's track record bode well for him, and not so well for Jackie.

"Night son," Mel called, breaking David's reverie. "Be safe if you decide to go out."

"Sure, Dad," he nodded.

"So nice to meet you David," Jackie waved as his father escorted her out the front door. David offered a weak smile in response, and as the front door closed, he thundered up the stairs, taking two at a time. He grabbed his phone and dialed Scott's number, taking deep breaths to settle his pulse.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me again."

"Donna Martin!" Scott crowed.

"What?" David frowned.

"The girl who's always with Kelly Taylor. Her name is Donna Martin." David knew Scott too well, and thus he figured the poor kid had been wracking his brain for the entire time David had been downstairs trying to come up with that name.

"Whatever," David interrupted. He didn't care at the moment, unless this Donna Martin girl could help him get any closer to Kelly. "You're never gonna guess what just happened to me!"

"Okay," Scott replied. David rolled his eyes. Scott was so dense sometimes.

"You're not going to guess?"

"You said I'd never guess." David spun around, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"My dad wanted me to meet his date for the evening. No big deal, cause my dad dates all the time, right?"

"Your dad gets more action than Wilt Chamberlain," Scott snickered.

"Stay with me, Scanlon," David ordered, pacing excitedly around his bedroom. "My dad's date was none other than Kelly Taylor's mother!" There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Why is that good news? Dude, if your dad gets serious with your dream girl's mom, that'll make you her stepbrother. And that's just gross. We make fun of my cousins in Oklahoma a lot, but wanting to date your stepsister borders on crushing on your cousin."

"It's not even the same thing! We're not related, and if you'd stay with me, you'd know my dad will never make it more than a few weeks with this Jackie lady. He'll move on to the next piece of ass in a month or so, but by then, I'll have used the situation to get closer to Kelly!" Scott snorted.

"I still say she won't give you the time of day," he laughed. David's eyes narrowed.

"You just watch, Scott. I'm going to get Kelly Taylor. Starting tonight. Get dressed if you're not already. We're going to that party."

"How are we getting there, genius?" Scott retorted. Neither of the boys had a driver's license yet, though David was a few weeks away from his permit.

"Get your mom to drop you off here. Tell her we're gonna watch some movies. I'll find out where Tom Hartman lives. Worse-case scenario, we walk."

"You're insane."

"Just get over here."

***

Brandon leaned forward towards the mirror over his bathroom sink, twisting his fingers through his wavy hair, working the gel evenly throughout. He gritted his teeth, ran his tongue over them and decided he could still taste the oregano he had sprinkled generously over the pizza his father had brought home an hour earlier. Running the water, he brushed his teeth vigorously and sloshed some Scope around in his mouth.

"Brandon! Steve's here!" his father's voice drifted up the stairwell. Brandon glanced at the clock. Quarter to 8. So much for Steve's idea of a "fashionably late arrival."

"Be right down!" he called back, grabbing a black shirt from his closet and buttoning it over the maroon t-shirt he was already wearing. He fastened the buttons with ease, leaving the top two undone and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. Casual, but classy, he decided, nor did it look like he was trying too hard. Good enough. He grabbed his keys off his desk, knowing Steve's Corvette would remain parked in front of the Walsh house and Brandon would drive. After his DUI months earlier, as well as Steve's drunken decision to let a random freshman without a license drive him home, it was best for both guys if Brandon drove. Steve never liked pulling up in Mondale, but it was a small price to pay.

Brandon hopped down the steps, slapping Steve's outstretched hand as he reached the landing, hiding a smile at the loud paisley shirt Steve was sporting with his khakis.

"You're early," Brandon indicated.

"You ready?" Steve asked. Brandon nodded, jangling his car keys in front of Steve's face.

"I'm designated driver tonight, no arguments." Steve held up his hands.

"No argument from me," he agreed. "But we're taking my car. I can get us there. Worst thing that happens is _you_ take me home and bring the car back here. _You_ I trust," he added hastily. Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"I thought…" he started. Steve shook his head.

"Don't think, let's go," he interjected. Brandon shrugged and tossed Mondale's keys onto the foyer table.

"Bye Mom, bye Dad!" he called. He waited for a reply.

"Have fun honey!" Cindy called from the kitchen. His father poked his head into the foyer.

"Be safe, boys. Brandon, home by 1." Brandon smirked to himself, knowing full-well Brenda's curfew that evening was an hour earlier, and it no doubt had something to do with the fact she was out with Dylan McKay. His parents had done the same thing to him back in Minnesota when he had casually dated Jill Miner. They had never liked that girl, and Brandon's curfew had suffered as a result. Brandon opened the door, and Steve bounced out before him, his nervous energy clearly evident.

"Take it easy, man," Brandon advised as they walked to Steve's car.

"This is gonna be a good night, Brandon. I can feel it," Steve grinned, sliding into the driver's seat as Brandon adjusted the seat belt on the passenger side. The Corvette purred to life, and Steve threw it into first gear to guide it out of the Walshes' driveway.

He didn't tell Steve that he didn't have quite the same feeling about the evening, and the party, that lay ahead.


	7. Looking for a Good Time

**Chapter 7: Looking for a Good Time**

"Ugh, this party is off to a lame start," Kelly lamented, swirling her straw around in the fruity concoction she had ladled out from a massive punch bowl in the kitchen. It was no doubt spiked, but she was strictly sipping tonight. No lapses in judgment this time.

"I haven't even seen Tom yet," Donna returned, craning her neck to see past the crowd of people gathered on the patio, milling around in front of the pool. Music was pulsing through the speakers, and what must have been at least fifty lanterns were strung along the awning, and several tiki torches blazed from random points throughout the backyard.

"Donna, would you stop pining over Tom? He's been with Cammie for two years now! In high school time, that's like an eternity. They're like the Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward of West Beverly!"

"Who?" Donna stared blankly. Kelly rolled her eyes.

"You don't know who Paul Newman is? God, he's a legend. And he was so incredibly hot when he was younger. Heck, he's hot for an older guy!"

"He's no Keanu Reeves," Donna breathed. Kelly snorted.

"You and Keanu Reeves," she shook her head and took a sip of her drink, swishing it around in her mouth. She definitely tasted rum. Donna nodded towards the cup in her hand.

"What's in that?"

"I think it's rum," Kelly replied. "You want to try it?" Donna shook her head and gestured to the bottle in her own hand.

"I'll stick to beer. I know no one can mess with this," she added. Kelly shrugged and wrinkled her nose.

"Ugh, I can't stand the taste of that stuff."

"You get used to it," Donna replied. "Besides, I read in Cosmo that guys find girls that drink beer "approachable" and "fun"."

"Cosmo? You're reading Cosmo now?" Kelly frowned, mildly annoyed that her best friend had graduated to Cosmopolitan from YM and Seventeen before she did.

"I read one at my dad's office when I was there last week. I tore out a subscription card. I really think we're getting beyond the advice the teen magazines can offer, don't you?"

"Probably," Kelly agreed. Donna took a pull from her beer bottle, and Kelly watched her face contort slightly as she did so.

"It tastes awful, doesn't it?" she smirked. Donna swallowed and sighed.

"Yeah, it does," she frowned. "Oh well." She paused, and a hopeful expression glinted in her eyes. "There's Tom!" A goofy smile spread across her lips.

"And there's Cammie," Kelly added, motioning towards the tall brunette clinging to Tom's side. "What a waste if you ask me. He's so hot, and she's…"

"Plain," Donna supplied, nodding in agreement. "I know! He can do so much better."

"That's love for you, I guess." Kelly took another slow sip and shrugged. "Not that we'd know about that. I've barely liked most of the guys I've been with."

"Speaking of love, I wonder how Brenda's doing on her date with Dylan," Donna wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. Kelly snickered, ignoring the pang of jealousy that stabbed in her side. She was happy for her friend, but she was tiring quickly of the lovey-dovey stuff she was constantly witness to.

"I'm sure she's enjoying herself immensely," she giggled. She paused. "Don, do you think Brenda and Dylan make a good couple?" Donna twirled her beer bottle between her palms and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I don't know. I mean, I guess they do. Why?" Donna knitted her brows and shot Kelly a look. "This isn't about Dylan is it?" Kelly shook her head vehemently.

"No! No," she repeated hastily. "I'm happy for her, you know."

"Kelly," Donna warned. "You don't sound very convincing. And you had a crush on Dylan McKay for, like, two years in middle school."

"Donna, that was years ago. I mean, yeah, Dylan McKay is hot, and all, but I really don't think he's my type at all. I guess I'm asking about him and Brenda more because I know the kind of girls he usually dates, and…"

"Kel, that's like calling the kettle black. Didn't you freak out the other day because Brenda made some insinuation about you not being her brother's type?" Kelly sighed.

"Geez, calm down," she whispered, glancing around to see if people were staring at them. "I didn't mean it _that_ way. I just worry about her sometimes. She's so sweet and trusting, and Dylan's got a reputation for loving and leaving." She lowered her voice. "Remember Claudia DiNardi?"

"Kelly, no one ever confirmed that she left school and moved to France because she got knocked up," Donna hissed back. "That was a vicious rumor. Her dad probably got transferred or something. I think he worked for Louis Vuitton."

"Could be," she agreed disbelievingly. "Anyway, I just meant I worry that Brenda's going to get in over her head too fast. Beverly Hills isn't Minneapolis, you know."

"Speaking of Minneapolis," Donna nudged her and directed her attention across the patio to the doors of the main house. "There's your crush du jour." A secretive smile crept onto Kelly's lips and her heart fluttered as she laid eyes on Brandon Walsh.

"God, he's so cute," she whispered, staring at him, willing him to meet her eyes. He had yet to look over in their direction, and Kelly sighed as she noticed Steve Sanders right beside him. He, of course, was already searching the crowded patio, no doubt looking for her. She grimaced as she felt Steve's eyes settle on her, and she watched a satisfied smirk cross his face as he elbowed Brandon and gestured in her direction.

"We've been spotted," she hissed to Donna, who was intently staring towards the fire pit set up off to the side of the patio, where a group of kids were sitting, most notably Tom, who had Cammie perched comfortably on his lap.

"What?" Donna replied, shaking her head to break the pseudo-trance she was in. Kelly nodded towards Steve, who was rapidly making his way towards them, Brandon a few steps behind. "You're on your own there," she snickered. Kelly gripped her friend's upper arm tightly, careful not to dig her nails into Donna's skin.

"Don't you dare leave me," she ordered through clenched teeth.

"Ladies," Steve announced, grinning broadly as he came to a stop directly before them.

"Hey, Steve," Donna smiled casually. "Hi, Brandon," she added, smiling more broadly at him.

"Donna," Brandon nodded, returning her smile. "Kelly."

"Hey, Kel," Steve leered, grinning. "Nice dress." Kelly stiffened, and Brandon shook his head slightly. It was probably meant to be a compliment, as he too had noted appreciatively how well Kelly filled out the little red dress she was wearing, but from Steve's mouth, it had managed to come across sarcastic and mocking.

"Go away," she frowned, her fingers fiddling with the straw in her drink. She raised her eyes and locked them on Brandon. "I'm going to go top off my drink." She gave him a silent plea with her eyes as she turned and flounced off. Donna rocked back on her heels and played with the bottle in her hands again.

"Why do you always have to be such a jerk to her?" she asked suddenly, challenging Steve. He threw up his hands and feigned innocence.

"What did I do?" he asked. Donna and Brandon exchanged a look.

"If you're seriously _ever _going to try to win her back, you don't have the slightest clue how to do that," Donna laughed. "You're wasting your time!" She strode off, making a beeline for the house where Kelly had disappeared moments earlier. Steve made a face and shrugged.

"What the hell, Brandon? What did I do?" Brandon shook his head, dumbfounded that Steve was really so dense as to how he came across to his ex-girlfriend. "All I did was tell her that her dress was nice."

"Steve," Brandon began, trying to keep his tone from slipping towards patronizing, "it's the _way_ that you said it to her. You tell her "nice dress," but it comes out sounding like you're criticizing her and making fun of it."

"She looked nice!" Steve sputtered.

"I know she does," he agreed, picturing the way the dress clung to Kelly's curves in all the right places, and he swallowed involuntarily. "But I'm telling you, that's not how she heard it." Steve snorted and tossed his head.

"So I can't pay her a compliment?"

"You can," Brandon sighed, exasperated. "You just have to sound more sincere when you do it. You need to try to talk to Kelly like she's not just your ex-girlfriend. Talk to her like you would Donna, or my sister…or anyone."

"I'm not interested in Donna," he frowned. "Or your sister. No offense, Bran, your sister is a really pretty girl, but I don't usually do brunettes."

"I can imagine she'll be all broken up to hear that," Brandon snickered. "I kind of think Brenda's a little too wrapped up in Dylan McKay to notice anyone else. Tom Cruise could ring our doorbell, and Brenda would probably walk right past him to see if Dylan was behind him."

"Please, Brandon," Steve shook his head and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Everyone knows Tom Cruise is gay." Brandon stared back at Steve, dumbstruck.

"I didn't know that. I thought he had just gotten involved with that redhead he made the racing movie with…Days of Thunder. God, what's her name? Australian girl, beautiful…" Brandon trailed off, wracking his brain for the actress's name.

"Kidman. Nicole Kidman," Steve supplied. "Say what you want Bran, but I heard it from my mom, and she's in the industry. Some things don't stay secret among the insiders." Brandon rolled his eyes inwardly. He had only met Steve's mother once, but from what he knew of Samantha Sanders, she was hardly an "industry insider." Most famous for her role in a _Brady Bunch_-esque family sitcom that had now been off the air for years but enjoying a healthy enough life in syndication, Brandon couldn't recall seeing Steve's mom in any roles recently.

"Ooh, there's Shelley Lyons," Steve elbowed Brandon hard, nodding his head in the direction of a blonde girl in a pair of tight jeans and a blue top that was barely skimming her shoulders.

"I thought you were all about professing your love to Kelly," Brandon snorted. Steve's steely-blue eyes glinted mischievously.

"No better way to win a girl back than to drive her insane with jealousy."

"She's pretty enough," Brandon agreed, observing that as cute as this Shelley chick was, she was no Kelly Taylor. He smiled to himself as he heard Kelly's voice ringing in his ears, recalling what she had confessed to him just hours earlier: "_When you don't love someone back the way they deserve to be loved…" _He wondered if his friend had stopped to consider that Kelly had broken things off to spare him further hurt feelings. The way she had phrased it, that Steve deserved someone to love him, spoke volumes. He cleared his throat and considered raising the issue.

"She's supposedly a demon in the sack," Steve continued, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Brandon sighed and decided to keep quiet. Perhaps Steve Sanders really wasn't ready for any kind of serious relationship. "I'm going to go inside and grab a beer. You want one?"

"No, man," Brandon held up his hands. "I'm your designated driver tonight, and I'm not planning on seeing the inside of any jail cells ever again."

"Suit yourself," Steve shrugged. "I'm gonna try to find Kelly after I get my drink. She's in that house somewhere."

"Did you consider she's avoiding you?" Brandon said suddenly. Steve turned and shot him a suspicious look.

"Why would you say that?"

"Cause she tends to avoid you a lot," he said bluntly.

"You let me worry about Kelly Taylor, okay?" Steve retorted, stalking off towards the house. Brandon sighed and rocked back on his heels, his eyes scanning the patio for any other familiar faces. He had a sudden urge to be doing nothing more than watching a movie on the couch, remembering why he hated the party scene so much as the loud music pulsed in his head and the heavy odor of alcohol, cigarette smoke and pungent weed swirled in the night air. He cringed as he heard the distinct sound of gagging coming from behind a scrub of sage. Awfully early in the evening for someone to be so drunk already, he mused critically.

He wondered momentarily if his sister was having a good time with Dylan, and then he immediately shook the thought from his head. He was certainly happy when Brenda was happy, but the last thing he wanted to consider was the details of her romantic escapades with Dylan McKay. Brandon was still a little astounded by how quickly and how hard his twin had fallen for the guy. He knew there was something to be said for the dark and mysterious type, as it seemed to appeal to all girls, but he actually couldn't have pictured Brenda fawning over a similar type of guy back in Minnesota. In fact, strangely, he observed that Dylan McKay would have been an outsider of the worst kind back home, but here, his rebellious nature was celebrated and romanticized. And his sister had decided that she was the one who was going to tame that defiant streak.

"Hi again." He turned and was shocked to see Kelly standing at his side, smiling brightly at him.

"Kelly," he said slowly, craning his neck to look for Steve through the large glass-paneled windows that ran along the back of the massive house. "Where did you come from?"

"You're not happy to see me," she pouted playfully, pursing her lips.

"No, no, it's not that," he assured her. "I…well, Steve was going to look for you after he grabbed himself something to drink."

"Ugh." She wrinkled her nose, scrunching up her face, and Brandon had to admit, though most other girls distorting their features in such a way might not look so good, Kelly managed to look adorable in the process. "The only thing worse than a remorseful, groveling Steve Sanders is a drunken remorseful groveling Steve Sanders. He can't handle his liquor at all," she finished, her voice softer as she revealed the last tidbit.

"So," she continued, glancing down at his hands. "You're not drinking?" It wasn't really a statement of surprise, he noted. More matter-of-fact, as if she understood.

"Nope," he replied. "Not worth the risk. I've got to get Loverboy home safely later." Kelly giggled.

"Yeah, we wouldn't want anything to happen to him," she smiled. He gestured to the neon-orange party cup in her own hands.

"Do you even know what's in that?" he frowned, instantly chiding himself for sounding so paternal. He knew Kelly was no fan of alcohol or drugs as a result of her mother's own dependency issues.

"I do know," she shot back knowingly. "Relax, Brandon. When I went inside, I topped it off with straight up cranberry juice. But thanks for your concern," she teased. Brandon flushed slightly, thankful for the dimmed light of the patio and the meager moonlight gleaming down from the darkening sky.

"I just know…" he started to say, but Kelly shook her head.

"I know what you were thinking," she said quietly, biting her lip. "But no drunken indiscretions for me tonight."

"Uh, I had actually been thinking about your mom's history and something you told me months ago. You know, about not drinking and sipping instead," he confessed, and Kelly blushed, quite visibly.

"Oh," she murmured, looking away, surely embarrassed she had brought up the consequences of the last time she had drank and slept with Steve. An uncomfortable silence settled over the two of them, and Kelly shifted slightly beside him.

"So, uh, where did Donna go?" Brandon asked, trying to make light conversation. Kelly shrugged her shoulders.

"She's probably stalking Tom. She really thinks he and Cammie are going to break up, and he'll realize she's the girl for him. I wish she'd find someone who will actually give her the time of day. Donna is such a sweet girl, but she's never really had a boyfriend."

"Oh," Brandon nodded, surprised by that revelation. He figured girls in Beverly Hills started dating at age eight. Another silence.

"You look really cute tonight," she declared boldly, and her blatant attempt at conversation disguised as a compliment caught him utterly off-guard. "I mean, the black on red, I like it. It works."

"Thanks," he replied uncertainly, his eyes sweeping over her. "You definitely look more than cute." Her blue eyes sparkled in the muted glow of the patio lights, and her lips curled into a smile.

"Thanks," she echoed, fastening her eyes on his. "Brandon," she whispered, running a fingertip along the edge of the cup she was clutching, and she paused, leaving him in anticipation of what she was going to say next.

"There you are!" Steve interrupted, pushing past two party-goers to amble towards Brandon and Kelly. He took a pull off his bottle of Corona and stopped in front of them. They both involuntarily took a step back from each other.

"Here I am," she sighed. "What now, Steve? Want to make fun of my dress again?"

"I was looking for you. I guess you must have slipped outside without me seeing you." He laughed. "And to think you thought she was avoiding me, Brandon," he snickered. Kelly raised an eyebrow at Brandon.

"If I were avoiding you, you think I'd come back outside to talk to your best friend?" she challenged. "I was I was going inside to top off my drink, I meant it." She waved the cup under his nose, and Brandon had to admit he was confused as to where she was going with this. Just earlier that evening, she had been pleading with him to keep Steve away from her, and yet, she had a point. Why _would_ she have come back outside? Unless she had concluded there was just no way of avoiding him…or part of her really did want to talk to him.

"We need to talk," Steve declared. Kelly tilted her head and set her jaw.

"We do?" She shrugged. "So talk." Steve's eyes darted towards Brandon, and he gave his friend a visual cue that implied "_Beat it." _ Brandon remained fixed in the spot he was standing.

"Alone," Steve emphasized.

"Brandon's your best friend. What could you possibly have to say to me that your best friend couldn't also hear?" Kelly replied smoothly, sipping her drink slowly.

"Because our relationship is none of Brandon's business," he growled, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I wasn't aware that we still had a relationship," she retorted. "We can certainly work at a friendship, but I'm not getting back together with you, Steve. It's not going to happen."

"Why are you such a bitch?" he snarled.

"Well, I'm gonna go inside and see if I can't find Donna," Brandon piped up, his unease at being caught between the verbal sparring of his best friend and a girl who was suddenly paying him more attention than the brother of _her_ best friend would normally garner bubbled over to complete awkwardness. He edged towards the boundary of the patio, but Kelly's arm shot out quickly and braced across his chest.

"Please stay," she pleaded, cutting her eyes towards Steve, who was glowering at her. "I'll feel a lot better if you do." Steve rolled his eyes and grunted sarcastically.

"Oh, please, Kelly. Cut the crap. Don't act like you're afraid of me or something," he spat. Kelly fixed her eyes on him.

"I'm not afraid of you, Steve," she returned. "I don't want to hurt you," she continued quietly. "And if I'm being perfectly honest…"

"Never been your strong suit," Steve interjected, his voice dripping with venom. Brandon watched Kelly's body tense, her back straightened, and she squared her shoulders, but she ignored his comment and took a breath.

"If I'm being perfectly honest," she repeated. "I'll be less likely to say something I'll regret if Brandon is here."

"Oh, I forgot, Brandon Walsh is every girl's White Knight," Steve jeered mockingly, and Brandon bristled, offended by his friend's sudden nastiness.

"Steve, this is why we never get anywhere when you say you want to talk to me," Kelly cried, exasperated. "You can't get over yourself for two seconds to listen to what anyone else has to say. The moment you hear something you don't like you resort to the insults and the jokes and the cruel remarks. It's part of why I broke up with you in the first place!"

"Part of?" he sneered. "I can't wait to hear what the other part was. C'mon Kelly, enlighten me." Kelly's eyes flashed fire, and her nostrils flared slightly.

"Steve, can we please be civil?" she asked quietly, her voice quavering as she tried to remain calm. "You're going to cause a scene, and this party is barely an hour old."

"We can be civil if we can be alone," he snapped, glaring at Brandon, who held up his hands.

"I'm not stopping you," he replied, sliding his eyes towards Kelly. He could see the defeat heavy in her sad blue eyes.

"Fine," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Let's go talk." Arms crossed defiantly across her chest, Brandon watched her stride towards the glass doors. Steve shot Brandon a triumphant sneer, and he rushed off in pursuit of Kelly.

Brandon knew for sure now that he'd rather have just stayed home.

***

Brenda's heart was racing as Dylan eased his Porsche down a gravel path and cut the engine, and moments later they were plunged into darkness as the headlights flicked off. She could hear the surf pounding the shore from outside the car, and the salty scent of the sea flooded her nostrils as she took a shaky breath.

"Dylan, what are you…" she started to say but found herself silenced by his lips crushing down on hers. She moaned against his mouth and gave in to his embrace, parting her lips slightly as his tongue begged entrance. Just as suddenly as he had kissed her, he broke away. He opened the driver's side door and eased his frame out, Brenda's eyes following the curve of his spine as he stretched languidly before he crossed in front of the car and opened her door for her. She gave him a quizzical look as she gingerly raised herself off the leather seat, careful to keep her legs tucked as she slid them out and felt the crunch of gravel under her heel. Dylan grabbed her hand as she stood, lacing his fingers through hers. She felt a tremor of anticipation shoot through her at his simple touch.

"You think you can make it down that path in those shoes?" Dylan asked softly, his voice husky as he glanced down at her heels. "If not, we can walk further down and take one of the boardwalks instead." Brenda contemplated it for a moment.

"I can probably manage," she replied hesitantly. It didn't look that steep; it wasn't really much more than a large sand dune. "I can always take my shoes off."

"I wouldn't take them off til we get down to the beach," he warned, gripping her hand tightly as they reached the top of the path. "There always seem to be broken shells and shards of beer bottles all over this particular path."

"Oh, so you come here often?" she said, accusing him mockingly, but secretly feeling a stab of jealousy at the thought of Dylan bringing other girls to this spot.

"You could say that," he replied cryptically. He must have sensed her insecurity, because he sighed and shifted as he eased down the path, coaxing her to follow. "This is where I come to get away from things, Bren. Some of those broken beer bottles probably were in my hands at one point." She pressed her lips together, opting not to prod him further. She set one foot in front of the other carefully, feeling precariously like she was about to fall when Dylan wrapped a strong arm around her waist and steadied her.

They made their way down to the beach, Brenda kicking off her heels and slinging them over her shoulder. The sand was cool beneath her feet, soft and inviting as they sunk in with each step. Dylan led her towards the water's edge in silence; the only sound was the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the beach and the sporadic chirping of the crickets having their evening conversations in the saw grass at the dunes' edge.

Her heart was now hammering inside her chest, her stomach churning anxiously as she pondered Dylan's intentions bringing her to the moonlit beach, though she noticed the scurrying clouds were making the moonlight less pronounced than usual. A gentle breeze was wafting off the water, ruffling her hair and raising the gooseflesh on her bare arms. She shivered involuntarily in spite of the warm spring night.

"You cold?" Dylan asked, sliding his hand up and down her right arm gently. She shrugged and tossed her head lightly.

"Just the breeze, I guess. And I'm kind of underdressed for a night stroll, I guess," she admitted sheepishly. Dylan let out a throaty chuckle.

"And here I was thinking you were overdressed," he whispered, lowering his head and brushing his lips over the curve of her neck, his tongue carefully swirling over the pulse point there. Brenda gasped and threaded her fingers through his hair.

A thousand things were cascading about in her head, crashing about chaotically, as Dylan's lips worked their way towards the column of her throat, teasing the soft skin as he caressed her back with his rough hands. She hadn't considered that Dylan had planned anything beyond the lovely dinner they had just shared, but she knew now that the restaurant had been vigilantly chosen for its proximity to this place of clear importance to Dylan.

She also knew there was heavy implication as to where Dylan thought the evening might be headed, though he had not uttered a word to her about sex in the last few days. He had been more than patient with her, she noted with admiration, as she knew her boyfriend's reputation of past conquests suggested he was not used to having to wait for a girl to give it up to him.

The sensations that were building within her and threatening to overwhelm her were starting to leave her lightheaded, and she felt her knees buckle. Almost on instinct, Dylan lowered their bodies to the sand, covering her with the length of him tenderly. Grains of sand pebbled against the backs of her bare legs and back, and she shifted under his weight to get comfortable as one of his hands wandered up her thigh, setting the skin ablaze with the contact. His lips found hers once more, and he kissed her with such an intense passion she found herself struggling to breathe.

A dull ache began to build in her abdomen, and she tried to suck in a breath to fight the sensation. Dylan's hand was creeping higher on her leg, the fringed hem of her dress now skimming against his skin. She yelped with surprise as his fingers deftly traveled up her inner thigh and swiftly brushed aside her panties.

"Dylan, wait!" she trembled, sitting up and inching away from him. His confused eyes met hers. "I don't know," she admitted softly, her pulse pounding. She could actually hear the blood rushing to her ears.

"Bren, didn't that feel good?" he murmured, brushing a lock of her hair out of her eyes. Brenda blushed and dragged her finger through the sand, looking away shyly.

"Yes," she whispered. "Maybe too good." She took a deep breath. "I just don't know…" He nodded, his eyes darting out towards the darkened sea.

"This doesn't have to be about sex," he replied after a few moments. "There are things that we can do that feel good without actually having sex, you know." Brenda coughed and avoided his eyes again, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment at her lack of experience.

"I've had boyfriends before, Dylan," she pointed out, not wanting him to think she was a naïve virgin. She might have been a virgin, she knew, but she had certainly done her fair share of fooling around with the few guys she had dated in Minnesota. Which was why, she thought lamentably, that it was so much more embarrassing that she was feeling overwhelmed by Dylan's advances.

"Brenda, just let me make you feel good before I take you home," he pleaded softly. "I didn't bring you here with the intention of seducing you." He paused. "Or at least not convincing you to sleep with me. I'd never want you to do anything you're not ready for."

"That's the thing," she interrupted. "I'm not sure I'm ready or not. I do know that I like you, Dylan. A lot," she added.

"I'm going down to Mexico for a few days," he said suddenly, shifting and sitting up to stare directly out at the churning ocean. He drew his knees to his chest. Brenda raised herself to her knees and faced him.

"Why?" she asked, blinking back tears. She had ruined the evening, she feared, and she tried desperately not to allow her disappointment to show.

"My dad wants me to come down. I'm gonna go. I just wanted to have a nice night with you, since it'll be a few days before we're together again."

"How many days?" she asked quietly. Dylan shrugged.

"Three, four. I dunno. Maybe a week." Brenda's eyes widened, and she swallowed a lump.

"A week? Dylan, how can you blow off school like that?"

"You sound like your brother," he snorted. "The Walsh twins, looking out for my well-being."

"Someone has to," she shot back. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, not wanting to pick a fight with him. Dylan just didn't see education the same way she did, and to be fair, she didn't know what it was like to not have your parents around most of the time. She guessed she really couldn't begrudge Dylan wanting to spend time with his father. And at least it wasn't Hawaii he was running off to, where his mom currently resided.

"I do appreciate your concern, Bren," he said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "But I'm going."

"I'll miss you," she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder and glancing up at the night sky. He pressed his lips to her temple and wrapped an arm around her.

"I'll miss you too," he murmured. "Want me to show you how much?" Her heart fluttered, and she nodded. "I think I have you to myself for a bit longer before we have to meet your dad's stupid curfew." Brenda squinted at her watch in the muted moonlight.

"It's 10 o'clock, Dylan," she replied.

"Then I guess I'd better make good use of the hour, huh?" he whispered, pulling her atop him, her legs straddling him, both still in sitting positions.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Dylan," she confessed softly as his lips seized hers in heated response.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Author's Note**_: Well, that took much longer than I expected. This chapter just did not want to be written, so I apologize it's taken so long to get anything posted. I was stuck in party doldrums, so I wrote the B/D part first, then went back to the party, and then that started getting long…so I had to end it where I did. Looks like the next chapter will have to continue the evening, including the fight between Steve and Kelly, and the escapades of David and Scott as they attempt to get in to the shindig.

I also had to keep Dylan out of town as he was in the original episode for my plan to be carried out. Brenda's still going to experience a little bit of jealousy about Brandon's student council run, but she's going to do something quite different than express her desire to drop out of school. Had Dylan been around, I don't think she would have been quite as slighted by the attention Brandon got. Aren't you curious what I have up my sleeve? Then by all means, review!

BTW, the title song actually is about one-night stands, but I decided the original title was better for Chapter 8, and the only other thing I could come up with was "Fight for Your Right to Party" and that was _not_ happening! :-P ~Court~


	8. Last Worthless Evening

**Chapter 8: Last Worthless Evening**

"Dammit, Scott, hurry up!" David hissed over his shoulder, pedaling more furiously as he coasted around the corner of Valencia and Sycamore. Large, ostentatious homes loomed on lawns that were obviously neatly-manicured, even in the darkness. They weren't unlike the houses in David's own neighborhood; his father was a prominent dentist and did very well for himself.

David had been relieved to realize Tom Hartman lived just a few blocks away in a gated community that had surprisingly lax security, at least where two teenagers on ten-speeds were concerned. He and Scott merely had to flash their West Beverly High student IDs at the bored security guard at the main booth, and both boys were waved into Tom's neighborhood without a second glance. It had been a short and easy bike ride, and on a mild spring night, neither boy had to break too much of a sweat on the trek there.

"I can't wait til one of us gets a license," Scott grumbled, pulling even with David.

"Yeah, well, your mom better sign you up for driver's ed, or when you turn 15 next month, you're going to be out of luck."

"You know my mom, David. She worries about everything. I'm working on her." David sighed and rolled his eyes. Mrs. Scanlon was hypersensitive when it came to her son, and David wouldn't be surprised if instead of a learner's permit, Scott wound up with a bus pass.

"This looks like a good spot," David declared, slowing his bike and hopping off. He wheeled the bike up onto the sidewalk and steered it behind a large jacaranda bush at the edge of a front yard. Flicking the kickstand down with his foot, he parked the bike behind the bush, obscuring it from view. Scott's eyes widened as he set his feet down on the street.

"We're just gonna leave em here?" Scott asked in disbelief.

"You really think we're just gonna glide up to an upperclassman's party on our bicycles?" David snorted. "Get real, Scott. Of course we have to leave them here. Tom Hartman's house is two up on the left. The bikes will be fine here. Trust me." He glanced up at the massive house on the hill. "It doesn't even look like these owners are home tonight. No one is going to notice a few bikes for a couple of hours. Now get off the bike and let's get moving!"

"I don't know, David," Scott wheedled in response, though he did climb off the bike, one hand resting on the seat possessively. David heaved a sigh and strode to where Scott stood. He wrested the bike away before Scott could utter a protest and positioned it next to his own bike.

"There. Now let's get going. The party is probably already in full swing."

"What if it's not any fun?" Scott complained.

"Oh yeah, cause playing Zelda all night on your Nintendo would have been better," David retorted. "Stop worrying. God, you're just like your mother."

"Hey!"

"It's true," David muttered under his breath, quickening his pace as his friend struggled to match his strides. Even if they hadn't known where the Hartmans' house was, the noise level on the street would have been a dead giveaway. Loud music pulsed through the air, and the shrieks and shouts of teenagers could be heard above the din.

"How do you know you'll even be able to find Kelly Taylor at this party?" Scott asked suddenly. David stopped walking and turned to face his friend.

"Why do you always have to be such a downer?"

"I'm not a downer," he replied softly, tossing his hair out of his eyes. "I'm a realist. When did you become so obsessed with being one of the cool kids?" Scott paused and dragged the toe of his sneaker along the sidewalk, avoiding David's annoyed glare. David sighed.

"High school is when you're supposed to start caring about your reputation," David answered bluntly. "It's where you try to make a name for yourself. We're not gonna do that playing video games in your basement while your mom serves us Hi-C and Cheetos every Friday night."

"We're geeks, David. We're freshmen. We're not even supposed to be at this party."

"That's why we're not going in the front door," he replied smoothly. "If we just walk around back to the patio, no one will even really notice our arrival, and no one will question our even being there!" He smirked to himself, satisfied that he had thought through the details of their unofficial crashing. Scott shifted from side to side, a nervous jive.

"We can't stay all night either, David. My mom thinks we went to the movies, and she's gonna check what time the movie ends and when to expect us home."

"Then we'll call her and tell her you decided to spend the night at my house," David confirmed, growing more and more irritated with each excuse Scott tried to proffer. "Let's go." He started walking towards the house again, his heart thumping in anticipation with each step he took.

An image of Kelly Taylor formed in his head, and he felt a goofy smile forming on his face.

"She's not gonna give you the time of day," Scott murmured as they reached the driveway.

"Shut up," he replied through clenched teeth. "Don't ruin my evening."

"You'll probably do that fine on your own," Scott muttered aloud, but David was no longer listening as the lure of the party drew him further up the driveway.

***

"So. Talk." Kelly spun on her heel and recrossed her arms across her chest, jutting her chin into the air defiantly as Steve ushered her into a first-floor room that appeared to be a study. He had wanted her to go upstairs to a bedroom to talk, but Kelly had put her foot down and refused to go beyond the main floor of the house.

Steve closed the door and leaned against it, his face twisting in aggravation as he noticed the glass panes framing it. So much for privacy. Kelly's lips twisted into a reserved smile as she saw Steve realized they would not be completely hidden from prying eyes. She knew Steve would never ever become physically aggressive, and she didn't fear being alone with him, but the fact remained he could often get verbally abusive and angry, and knowing anyone walking past to use the powder room at the end of the hall might keep his temper in check. Or not. Steve was also largely unpredictable when it came to his moods.

"I miss you Kelly," he began softly, lowering his eyes to shoot her a pleading puppy-dog look. Kelly shook her head.

"I haven't gone anywhere, Steve," she replied, unfolding her arms and dropping them to her sides. "I'm still around." She sighed. "I wish you'd get it through your thick skull that two people can be friends without dwelling on a past relationship."

"I miss _being_ with you," he emphasized. "Why does our relationship have to be a thing of the past?" Kelly closed her eyes and turned away, her eyes wandering to the awesome ceiling-to-floor windows that ran the length of the study, which she deduced must be some sort of home office. She could see several kids jumping into the pool, and beyond them, a few couples were using the hot tub to engage in some serious making out. For a split second, she imagined being in the bubbling water with Brandon, his lips on her flesh, his hands exploring her body, and blushing, she shook the image from her mind.

"What are you thinking?" Steve pressed, walking towards her.

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "Look, Steve, I don't know how many times I have to tell you. There is no you and me anymore. Not the way you want it to be." She watched his blue eyes narrow in resentment, though to his credit, she had to admit he was staying calmer than she had thought he would.

"We were good together, Kelly," he cajoled her, reaching out to take her hands in his.

"Yeah," she answered uncertainly, drawing out the word slowly. "For a little bit. But think about it. Most of the time we were fighting or trying to find something in common. We never even liked to do the same things. Our dates were…" she trailed off, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "We just never did anything," she finished lamely.

"We were good together in other ways," he suggested, raising an eyebrow at her. Kelly pursed her lips.

"Sex can't be the only thing in a relationship, Steve," she countered quietly. "It just masks problems that are there in the first place."

"You've never had a problem using it in your other relationships, if you can call them that." He said it quickly, and though she thought she saw a flicker of regret in his eyes as he uttered the words, Kelly was stung by them nonetheless.

"Go to hell, Steve," she spat, pushing past him and rushing towards the door. Steve grabbed her upper arm, his strong fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Kelly struggled in his grip, her eyes filled with venom.

"Let. Go. Of. Me." She enunciated every word, locking her eyes on his. Steve released her from his grasp and backed up a step.

"Don't go," he implored.

"I'm not going to stay here and listen to you slander me," she argued. "You said you wanted to talk, not to trade insults."

"What can I say, you bring out the best in me," he smirked.

"And you never learn," she shook her head sadly. "This, Steve. This is why we will never, never get back together." She repeated the word for emphasis, even though she knew it would most likely fall on deaf ears. "I wish you'd just accept that, and let us work on being friends."

"I have enough friends," he sneered.

"Well then, maybe you need to start going out with other girls," she suggested, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"I should," he snapped back. "Instead I've been wasting my time pining over you."

"I never gave you a reason to think we were getting back together, Steve," she huffed, exasperated that he was still dwelling on this.

"Oh really?" he sniffed. "I seem to recall a party a few months back where you were very willing to climb into bed with me."

"That was a mistake," she cried, throwing up her hands in frustration. "I had had too much to drink, and you knew it!"

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened," he replied. "C'mon Kelly." He took a step towards her.

"Steve, enough!" she yelled, her aggravation finally bubbling over. "We are over. Done. We are never getting back together, and I'm not going to entertain the thought for another minute." She took a deep breath and reached for the door again.

"Who's the guy, Kelly?"

"Excuse me?" She spun on her heel and glowered at her ex. Steve rolled his eyes and shot her a malicious grin.

"You've never gone more than a few weeks without throwing yourself at some loser," he continued. "So who is it this time? Harry Wilson? Brad Philip? Kyle Conner? C'mon, spill."

"You're pathetic," she shook her head. "Fact is, after you, I'm enjoying being alone. The sad thing is Steve, I do care about you. You're too dense to realize it, cause you think just because I won't come crawling back to you I don't care. You can care about someone without loving them."

"You couldn't love anyone," Steve retorted. "You're too damn selfish. A selfish bitch, that's all you are." Kelly closed her eyes, counted slowly to five and let out a shaky breath. Her blood was boiling, and her palms would no doubt have several half-crescent dents where her fingernails had dug into her flesh while clenching her fists, but she was not going to let him get the best of her.

"Maybe you'll grow up sooner or later, and we can try to be friends." She flung open the door and stepped into the hallway, the shouts and laughter of the party washing over her. "Until then, have a nice life." She thrust her chin high in the air and walked briskly towards the wet bar in the center of the Hartman's massive entry hall. She thought for a brief moment about plunging her hand into the large cooler overflowing with ice and beer bottles, just to suck back a quick drink and get a slight buzz to numb the sting of what had just transpired between her and Steve, but she came to her senses and instead grabbed a chilled bottle of water. Taking a long sip, enjoying the feel of the cool liquid soothing her parched throat, she leaned against the wall and replayed the argument in her head.

As she was contemplating why it was that Steve was still so hung up on her, she saw him stalking angrily across the kitchen, hidden from his view in her current location. She watched him throw open the sliding glass door and heard it shut with a reverberating crash as several party-goers in the kitchen exchanged amused glances at his exit.

She took another drink from the bottle, then replaced the cap and adjusted her dress with her free hand before going off in search of Donna.

She had the sudden urge to do nothing but go home, crawl into bed and forget the whole evening.

***

"So then my mom wanted us to move to Houston, cause she has family there, but luckily for me, my dad's practice was really thriving here, so we didn't move after all," Donna rambled, and Brandon nodded politely, smiling at his sister's friend with forced politeness. He had spent the last fifteen minutes making small talk with the petite blonde as she prattled on about the various couples at West Beverly that weren't going to make it, Tom Hartman and Cammie Fisher being at the top of her list. Brandon seemed to think that one was simply wishful thinking on her part.

Now she was yammering about her early childhood, and it was taking every ounce of effort on his part to keep listening to her, though his eyes did keep wandering to the large windows to the far left of the rear of the house. With no curtains or blinds drawn, he could clearly see Steve and Kelly engaged in what appeared, for awhile, to be a civil conversation. Then Kelly had stepped away from the window, and he could only see just the back of Steve's curly head, and that's how things remained.

"Brandon?" Donna asked hesitantly.

"Huh?" he replied, looking away from the house and meeting Donna's whiskey-hued eyes. She gave him a wry smile.

"I asked you a question," she said pointedly.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he apologized. "What was it?"

"I asked if it was hard to move here from Minnesota. I mean, I've never had to move, like I was saying…" she trailed off, playing with the nearly-empty beer bottle, her crimson-painted fingernails picking at the label.

"Um, it was hard, at first, leaving behind my friends, breaking up with my girlfriend…"

"Oh my gosh, you had to break up with her?" Donna gasped dramatically. "That is so awful." Brandon smiled wanly at her.

"Yeah, well, long distance relationships don't work so well for mature, consenting adults. I could hardly have hoped for two immature teenagers to last separated by two-thousand miles." He paused, remembering the Sheryl that had came for a visit last fall was not the same girl he had dated in Minnesota, and their breakup was most likely a blessing-in-disguise.

"You're really smart," she said appreciatively. "No wonder Kelly likes you." The moment the words left her lips, Brandon saw her eyes widen in horror, and she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, gosh, forget I said that!"

"No problem," he winked, not surprised by the revelation, but mildly relieved to finally hear confirmation of it. From one of her best friends, no less. Not that he was entirely sure what he'd do with that little nugget of information…

"You're not going to say anything, right?" she pleaded. "Kelly would kill me!"

"I seriously doubt she'd kill you, Donna," he replied with a smile. "I haven't heard screams coming from the house, and if she was going to kill anyone, it would probably be Steve."

"Like anyone would hear screaming over that music," Donna laughed. "But aren't you curious what's going on in there?"

"Looks like we're about to find out," he gestured towards the house, where Steve had just pulled the sliding glass doors to the patio closed with a violent shudder. His face was a storm cloud, his large frame hunched in what appeared to be rage. He looked up and almost instantly met Brandon's eyes, then made a sudden beeline for where Brandon and Donna stood.

"Hey, Steve," Donna greeted him amiably, earning herself a vile glare from him. She frowned and drained the last of her beer.

"How did it go?" Brandon asked tentatively, bracing himself for the verbal assault on Kelly that was no-doubt forthcoming.

"She's impossible," Steve announced in disgust.

"That well, huh?" Brandon sighed.

"She's an insufferable bitch," Steve continued. "Didn't want to hear a word I had to say, and you know what man? I'm done with her. I don't need her. There are hundreds of girls at West Beverly that would love to be on my arm, cruising around town in my Porsche, so screw her!"

"I'm gonna go find her," Donna explained, setting down her empty bottle on a nearby table as she rushed off in search of Kelly. Brandon rocked back on his heels and faced Steve again.

"I'm sorry, man," he offered, clapping Steve on the back. Steve shrugged and made a face.

"Her loss," he spat. "I'm done with Kelly Taylor." He snorted. "I need a drink." But he made no move towards the house. Instead he started pacing in front of the pool, mumbling to himself.

"You know what burns me up most, Brandon?" he asked suddenly. "She never learns."

"I'm not following you, Steve," Brandon replied cautiously, not really wanting to listen to Steve launch into a verbally libelous rant against his ex-girlfriend. But he sensed it was coming.

"She doesn't want me back, fine. But I know she's interested in another guy. She's been all upbeat and smiley lately, which is always how she acts when she's got her eye on someone. And it's probably one of those brain-dead jocks, like that hotshot senior Harry Wilson or that disgustingly perfect Kyle Conner."

"Steve," Brandon began mildly, Donna's little sleight of tongue pinging through his mind, "Kelly's not interested in either of those guys right now." Steve shot Brandon a withering look.

"And who made you the expert on her love life?"

"Well, my sister is her best friend for starters, and I usually manage to hear who likes who. The walls aren't that thick," he joked, trying to redirect Steve's suspicions as to Kelly's intended crush was. "In fact, I haven't heard Brenda say anything recently." There. It wasn't a lie. Brenda _hadn't_ said anything.

"She never learns that these jerks are no good for her," he continued. "They all just want one thing, and unfortunately, Kelly's got the reputation for giving that thing up. Locker room talk can be vicious, and guys are more than happy to brag."

"Steve, why did you and Kelly start dating in the first place?" Brandon asked slowly. He had never really given it much thought, but now his curiosity as to how the two got together in the first place was piqued. A sheepish look crossed Steve's face, then a smug one replaced it.

"Any guy at West Beverly would go for an easy lay," he smirked. Brandon frowned, his heart going out to Kelly, if this is what was going to follow her for most of high school.

"So it had nothing to do with the fact she's a beautiful girl and has a good heart?" He knew in spite of Steve's callous attitude, there was more to why he pursued Kelly Taylor and couldn't seem to let her go.

"There are plenty of pretty girls at school," Steve retorted. "And Kelly's heart is as black as they come. She cares about one person, herself." He laughed bitterly. "Don't take her side, Brandon. She doesn't deserve sympathy."

"I've never seen her being nasty to anyone," he pointed out, still feeling the need to defend her, albeit precariously lest Steve get defensive and start accusing _him_ of being interested in Kelly. Which he still wasn't sure if he was, or not.

"She's a conceited, shallow bitch, Brandon. And the sooner people realize that, the better off they'll be," he spat contemptuously. "I've done my part." A slither of unease crept over Brandon.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. Steve smirked again.

"Let's just say I've shared my share of warnings about Ms. Kelly Taylor. Guys have to look out for each other."

"You've spread rumors about her?"

"Not rumors if they're true," he snapped. "Brandon, just drop it, okay? She's not worth it. Now I'm seriously going to get something to drink." He pushed past Brandon and reentered the house, leaving Brandon standing alone on the patio.

***

Kelly was walking towards the sliding door when Donna appeared on the other side of the glass and pushed it open swiftly, grabbing Kelly's hand and leading her back towards the interior of the house.

"What happened? Steve is really pissed!" she asked, eyes wide. They stopped in the foyer, and Kelly sighed, sitting down on the steps, burying her face in her hands.

"I can't keep dealing with him, Don," she lamented. Donna gingerly sat down next to Kelly, carefully tucking in her legs and adjusting the short mini-dress she was wearing. Kelly rested her head on her friend's shoulder and sighed again.

"What did you tell him?" Donna asked quietly.

"The same thing I've been telling him for a year! I'm more than happy to be his friend, but I don't love him, and I'm not getting back together with him. And of course, that's when he got mean and started saying horrible things about me." She looked away, her eyes filled with sadness, hearing his voice echoing in her ears. "He told me I was selfish, and he called me a bitch, and that's when I walked out."

"Kel, you just have to ignore him," Donna implored. "You know he only says those things to hurt you because _he's_ hurt."

"He accused me of liking someone else," she continued.

"Well, you do!"

"He doesn't know that," she replied, twisting a lock of blonde hair around her finger. "And God, he'd flip out if he knew I liked Brandon Walsh, of all people." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "And of course," her eyes flooded with tears, "he had to bring up what a slut he thinks I am."

"He didn't say that!" Donna gasped.

"Not in so many words, but he made some comment about how good we were together, which he might have thought was the case, but I've told you before Don, I never felt that connection with him, and when I said sex couldn't be everything in a relationship, he felt the need to cut me down and remind me half my relationships have only been sex." She drew a labored breath and blinked back tears. "I'm never gonna shake this reputation, Donna."

"Kelly, this is high school. Most people know guys are full of crap and like to talk."

"Maybe. But in my case, most of what they say is true, and Brenda's probably right," she whispered sadly.

"Brenda?"

"Guys like Brandon Walsh just don't go for girls like me," she affirmed. "Why would Brandon want me when he could have a smart, pretty girl who doesn't have a damaged reputation?" Donna sighed and stroked her friend's hair.

"Oh, Kelly," she murmured. "You're smart, smarter than people give you credit for."

"Not really," she replied.

"You're beautiful," Donna added.

"So are a lot of other girls. And that doesn't really seem to matter. Look how much attention Brandon gives Andrea Zuckerman! That girl barely looks in the mirror in the morning!" She sighed. "And that's one of the things that is so great about him," she sighed wistfully. "He looks for the good in people."

"You've never been shy about going after a guy you like, Kel," Donna coached. "So why are you so hesitant to show Brandon Walsh how you feel?"

"Because he's different," she whispered, a small smile gracing her lips.

"It has nothing to do with Steve?" Donna hedged. Kelly shook her head vehemently.

"I've tried to be sympathetic where it comes to Steve Sanders. I'm done with the drama, Don. I don't care anymore. He's gonna have to deal with the fact I've moved on, and there are going to be other guys in my life." Kelly froze as she heard Steve's loud voice suddenly emanating from the kitchen. She was talking loudly to someone, but she didn't hear Brandon's voice when the other person replied. It must not have been Brandon.

"Donna, do you mind terribly if we just leave?" she asked wearily. Donna gave her a wan smile and hugged her with one arm.

"If that's what you want," she agreed.

"Well, I feel bad, if you want to stay," she replied. "I mean, you can always try to get a ride home with Abby Marks or John Lewis or someone who lives near you." Donna made a face.

"Abby's car always smells like cigarettes. It's not big deal, Kelly. If you want me to leave with you, I can. I'll stay over with you if you want too. We'd just have to swing by my house and tell my mom while I gather some stuff."

"You'd really spend the night tonight?" Kelly raised an eyebrow hopefully.

"What are best friends for?" Donna replied with a smile. "You just sound like you need a friend tonight."

"Thanks, Don," she smiled back. "What would I do without you?"

"Talk to yourself a lot," Donna joked. "Come on, let's get out of here. Tom hasn't looked at me once tonight."

"In his defense, it's kind of hard to look away when your girlfriend's breasts are always at eye-level," Kelly laughed, standing up and smoothing down her dress. Donna threw up her hands.

"I know, right? She's been sitting like that all night!" Donna heaved a sigh. "Maybe I should take your advice and move on."

"There are other fish in the sea," Kelly agreed. She linked her arm through Donna's and grabbed her purse. "Let's get out of here." She paused. "You think I should go say goodbye to Brandon?" Donna shrugged.

"You go out to that patio, you run the risk of seeing Steve again," she reminded her. Kelly bit her lip and chewed thoughtfully, her heart thumping at the thought of Brandon.

"I'll take the chance," she decided, leading Donna through the kitchen, where there was thankfully no sign of Steve, and the girls slipped out the patio doors as other kids entered the house, empty glasses in hand. Kelly scanned the crowded patio, her eyes desperately searching for Brandon. She narrowed her eyes as her gaze landed on a gawky-looking blonde kid, who was standing next to a taller gawky-looking brunette boy. Both were staring in her direction, and she recognized them instantly. The taller of the two was a freshman named David Silver, and Kelly felt as if he was constantly stalking her. She looked away quickly, relief washing over her as she located Brandon, standing alone near a giant palm tree, Steve, again, nowhere in sight. She felt David's eyes still on her as she walked briskly towards Brandon, Donna at her heels.

"Kelly, Donna, hey," he smiled as the girls approached him. Kelly felt her stomach tighten as her eyes met his. "Sorry about the whole thing with Steve, Kelly," he added, silently hoping Steve wouldn't return and find him talking to Kelly.

"We just came over to say goodbye," she said softly, giving him another smile. She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, drawing his gaze towards her. "Thanks," she added. Brandon looked down at her hand, and she immediately withdrew it.

"For?" he asked, confusion clouding his blue-green eyes. Kelly wanted to get lost in those pools of turquoise.

"You know. For trying with Steve. I shouldn't have even asked you, really, cause we all knew he wasn't going to stay away from me, but I know you would have done what you could," she smiled appreciatively. "You're a good guy, Brandon."

"You two are really leaving?" They both nodded in return.

"I really lost my will to have fun," she confessed.

"And Tom's not gonna give me the time of day," Donna jumped in, rolling her eyes mockingly. Brandon laughed.

"We just didn't want to be rude and leave without saying goodbye," Kelly reiterated.

"Well, thanks," Brandon replied. The three stood exchanging glances, Kelly's eyes locked firmly on Brandon's until Donna grabbed her arm and dragged her backwards a step.

"Come on, Kel," she coaxed. Donna gave Brandon a little wave and led Kelly away around the side of the house. Kelly looked back once before they disappeared through the wrought-iron gate.

Brandon sighed, wishing he could plan his own exit route rather than hang around and play designated driver for Steve.

***

"Where is she going?" David hissed to Scott, watching Kelly Taylor and that other blonde girl she was always with heading across the patio. The girls had just been talking to Brandon Walsh, who David knew was a junior who had transferred to West Beverly earlier that year and worked on the school newspaper. Other than that, he hadn't much cause to cross paths with the guy.

"It looks like they're leaving," Scott replied. Indeed, Kelly and the other girl swung open the same wrought-iron gate that David and Scott had slipped through about a half-hour earlier. Kelly turned at the last moment and looked back towards the patio, but her gaze was not in their direction, David noted. She appeared to be looking back at Brandon Walsh. David wrinkled his nose in annoyance.

"She can't leave!" he sputtered.

"She just did," Scott answered bluntly. David glared at his friend and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Great! There goes my evening," he muttered, kicking at a low-wall that circled the right portion of the patio near where they were standing.

"We're here, we might as well try to have some fun!" Scott enthused brightly. David rolled his eyes in irritation at his friend's sudden change in attitude.

"How the hell am I supposed to talk to Kelly Taylor if she's not here?"

"Like she was gonna talk to you anyway," Scott laughed. "There are lots of pretty girls our age, David. Why don't you just focus on getting _a_ girlfriend, instead of reaching beyond your means.?"

"Because I don't just want any girl, I want Kelly Taylor," he replied petulantly.

"Then you'll probably have to compete with Brandon Walsh, cause I don't know if you just saw the look she gave him, but…"

"Shut up, Scott," David cut him off.

"And, I've heard Steve Sanders is a pretty jealous ex, and he already hates you," Scott continued. David clenched his fists in anger.

"Are you done?" he asked nastily. Scott's eyes widened when he saw David's face, and he shrank back meekly.

"I'll shut up now," he said softly. David narrowed his eyes and thought carefully for a moment.

"I've got to find a way to get in with Kelly," he sighed.

"Um, what about your dad? If he starts dating Kelly's mom, you two will have to meet at some point," Scott offered. David shrugged.

"I don't want my dad dating her mom, that's gross. I need a better angle than that," he frowned. "I have to get closer to her, get to know more about her."

"Then you might as well start talking to Donna Martin," Scott suggested. "They're always together anyway. A slow grin spread over David's face as an idea sprang to mind.

"You know, you're not so dumb sometimes, Scanlon," he praised, clapping his friend on the back.

"What did I do?"

"You might have given me my in to Kelly Taylor," David crowed, shooting a sideways glance at Brandon Walsh. _Game on,_ he swore silently.

***

"You're awfully quiet," Dylan mused, resting his right arm along the back of Brenda's seat as they cruised along towards home. Brenda wrung her hands in her lap, her eyes watching the flickering lights off the highway pass by as they drove.

"Just thinking, I guess," she replied softly, a dreamy smile on her face. Her body was still tingling from the sensations Dylan had stirred within her, and she replayed the previous hour in her mind. No guy had ever done those things to her before, and she couldn't have imagined she could feel so good. It was a dangerous precipice, she knew. If such little actions could feel so incredibly good, she was terrified to think how intense actual love-making with Dylan would be.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked, holding back a smile, his tone coy. Brenda turned in her seat and gave him a knowing grin.

"I think that's an understatement," she laughed. Dylan's hand rose up from the seat and gently kneaded the nape of her neck. A quiver raced down her spine. She sighed. "I wish you weren't leaving me."

"Bren," he sighed. "I'm not leaving you. Don't look at it that way."

"You're going away for a week!" she exclaimed. "How am I supposed to look at it?"

"You can think how incredible our reunion can be," he suggested, his eyes gleaming wickedly in the dim of the car. Brenda's heart raced at the mere suggestion.

"I'm going to miss you," she murmured. "What am I supposed to do for a week?"

"I don't know. You'll have school to worry about, you can cram for the SATs…you can spend some time with Kelly and Donna. It's a wonder they haven't complained about you neglecting them."

"I don't neglect them," Brenda retorted, a slight pang of guilt thrumming in her.

"We spend a lot of time together Bren," Dylan replied. "If I were them, I'd miss you."

"They understand," she added. "Girls just know this stuff, how you need to be with someone when a relationship is new."

"That, or they're just not saying anything."

"Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?" she asked quietly, feeling mildly irritated at his accusation.

"I wasn't," he admonished. "I was just trying to point out that it'll be good for you to spend time with them when I'm with my dad. Trust me, Bren, I'm gonna miss you too." He eased the car to a stop at a red light and leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "More than you'll know."

"It's gonna be a long week," she moaned, tilting her head back against the seat, her eyes darting across the star-speckled sky visible above the car. Most were faint, as a result of the night's cloud cover, the usual smog-choked sky, or both.

"You sure I can't persuade you to break curfew and come back to my room with me?" he drawled, revving the engine and shifting the car into gear as the light changed. The car lurched forward as a rush of wind lifted Brenda's hair.

"As much as I'd love to, Dylan, I can't. I can't give my parents reason not to trust me. You and me, we're just too new still to break the tenuous trust they have in me."

"You mean the trust they have in me," he corrected. "I know your parents, well, your dad anyway, aren't keen on me."

"That's not true," Brenda said slowly. "They're just, getting used to the idea of me being so serious with someone. I never really dated anyone I cared this much about back home…I mean, back in Minnesota." She chastised herself; sooner or later, she'd remember that this _was_ home now.

"I'm not going to corrupt his little girl," Dylan rolled his eyes.

"I know," she nodded. "Give him time, he'll come around." She sighed and stared out the window again as more familiar sights caught her eye. They were getting closer to the Walsh house. She really didn't want the evening to end, especially since she knew it was her last with Dylan for a week. In teenage time that was like months she fretted silently.

"Last chance," he teased. "I can turn here and get us to the hotel in just a few minutes."

"I'm sorry," she smiled wryly. "You know it's not that I don't want to." For a fleeting moment, she considered it, especially since getting grounded would most likely involve roughly a week's punishment, and Dylan wouldn't even be around in that span of time. But her conscience took over, and she held her ground, upholding the promise she had made her parents. She couldn't risk making them doubt her. After all, one would never know when that trust might be needed down the road.

"Alright," he nodded as the car sped through the intersection, heading towards Hillcrest Drive.

They rode in silence for the final few minutes of the ride, Dylan easing the car into the Walshes' driveway within moments. He didn't turn off the car, which Brenda took as a sign that he wasn't going to walk her to the road. Instead, his hand gripped the back of her head and drew her to him, catching her by surprise as he lowered his lips to hers expectantly. He kissed her deeply, his tongue probing her mouth anxiously, feverishly.

"I'll miss you," he murmured, leaning his forehead against her own. Brenda swallowed and nodded.

"Me too," she whispered, tracing her fingertip along his jaw. "Be safe going down to Baja, okay?"

"Will do," he promised. "I'll try to call you when I get there tomorrow, once I reach my dad's bungalow, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled meekly, secretly thrilled that he knew she'd be concerned without her even saying a word. He gave her another quick, but passionate, kiss before releasing her.

"Night, Brenda," he smiled.

"Goodnight," she replied, exiting the car. "Thanks for an amazing night." She turned and stood in the driveway as he backed the car down towards the street, but the car idled there and he flashed the lights twice. She took it as a signal he wasn't leaving til she was safely inside, and she hugged her arms around herself tightly, practically floating towards the front door. She gave him a little wave as she turned the doorknob, knowing it would be unlocked and her parents would most likely be pretending to watch television on the couch. She had arrived home with four minutes to spare.

Dylan's car sped off down the road, and Brenda sighed, entering her house, still on cloud nine, yet at the same time utterly dejected.

The next week was going to be the longest week of her life.

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_**Author's Note: **_I'm sorry it took so long to update this. I hit some severe writer's block with this chapter, and I felt like I was merely rewriting the same scene over and over again, so it took quite a bit of work for it to feel authentic. I hope you guys agree. I think the night is over, but I guess we'll see once I start writing Chapter 9 where it starts itself. Who knows…it might be a late-night Walsh twins heart-to-heart.

B/D fans (if you're reading), please stick with the story even though Dylan will largely be MIA from the next chapters. I'm curious as to how you feel about the angle I'm going to give Brenda as opposed to her stupid "dropping out of school to be a stand up comedienne" angle.

And Donna fans, if there are any…I'm actually going to give her her own storyline, but I'm not entirely sure I'm going to have her with David. Any feedback is appreciated, since I don't have strong feelings either way! She's also not as easy to write during Season 1, cause we never got more than a "sidekick" angle to her. I'm doing my best interpreting her.

As for Steve…he needs someone, don't you think? *smile*

Thanks for reading! I hope not to make you wait as long next time, but the more feedback I get, the more inspired I feel. You don't know how much it means!

~Court~


	9. Wide Awake

_**Author's Note: **_So indeed, we have a nice Walsh sibling heart-to-heart this chapter, a decent chunk of conversation, but then the rest of the chapter veers into the minds of various other characters as they each struggle to fall asleep after the evening's events, and they're mostly short snippets that I tacked on to the end of Brenda and Brandon's chat. I hope they work…they were really hard to write.

I left Brandon and Brenda's thoughts to their conversation, and I left Kelly and Steve out of the process since Kelly's thoughts were shared earlier, and Steve…let's face it, he'd be passed out and not having trouble sleeping, ha.

Please, do a favor to my wounded psyche…I'm thrilled to see so many "favorite story" subscriptions in my in-box, but most of those same subscribers never show up under the reviews. Please just take a moment and tell me what you think…you'd be surprised how much the words motivate. Chances are this would have been up days ago if more people had responded to Chapter 8. Heck, you can even add your two cents as to what you'd like to see. The frame of this story is done, but I can certainly veer a storyline left or right a bit to make my readers happy!

Enjoy the chapter (thanks to U2 for the title inspiration).

**Chapter 9: Wide Awake**

Brenda had just finished changing into her pajamas and was diligently applying lotion to her bare legs when a flash of lights flooded her bedroom for a moment, signaling her brother had returned home. She was kind of curious to hear how the party had gone, though she doubted Brandon had the same vested interest in her evening with Dylan. Though her twin wouldn't explicitly say it, at times, Brenda got the distinct impression that Dylan McKay was not her brother's first choice for a guy for his sister.

She snapped the lid back down on the bottle of lotion and returned it to her bedside table, jumping up off her bed and darting through the bathroom to dive onto Brandon's bed. She shifted onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows to wait for him in the darkened room. She heard footsteps on the stairs, then growing nearer.

"Dammit Brenda!" The lights flicked on, and Brandon jumped visibly. "What are you doing in here?"

"Waiting for you," she smiled smugly. "That's for all the times you made me jump out of my skin as a kid."

"Not amused," he called over his shoulder as he worked the buttons of his shirt through their holes and eased it off his shoulders. He tossed it into the hamper in his closet, then turned and gave his sister a pointed look.

"Do you mind?" he asked. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Mind what?"

"A bit of privacy, Bren. I'd like to change."

"I'll close my eyes," she replied. "I just thought we could talk for a bit."

"Tell you what?" he began, fingers poised at the hem of his t-shirt, ready to peel the garment from his upper body. "You go back to your room, I'll change and use the bathroom and stuff, and I'll come to you. We can have a little chat if that's what you want."

"Alright," she sighed, springing up from the bed and strutting past him through the connecting bathroom. Brandon shook his head and smiled to himself, pulling the t-shirt off in one swift motion, throwing it in the hamper, repeating the same process for his jeans. He crossed to his dressed and rummaged around for his favorite Minnesota North Stars t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweat shorts. After using the bathroom and brushing his teeth, he entered his sister's room, finding her lounging on her bed in the exact same position she had been in when she had been lying on his bed.

"So, you wanted to chat, little sister?" he teased, sitting down on the bed next to her. She made a face at him, but her slate-colored eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I want party gossip," she demanded, a knowing smirk on her lips. "And I don't want to wait til tomorrow morning to hear it from Kelly or Donna."

"Well," he started, "you wouldn't get much out of either one of them. They didn't stay very long." Brenda's brows furrowed in confusion.

"What happened?"

"Steve happened," Brandon explained.

"Oh no!" she gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "Poor Kelly. Was it bad?" she cringed. Brandon shrugged.

"I wasn't a direct witness to it. He basically demanded to talk to her, she agreed, they went off to talk, and a bit later, Steve came storming out, ranting about how impossible Kelly is, how she'll never learn, how he doesn't need her…" Brenda snorted.

"Yeah, right. Then why is he always obsessing over her?" She sighed. "You're friends with him. Why doesn't he finally take a hint?"

"There's something about her that he just can't let go of," Brandon theorized. "He won't admit to it, and he makes himself feel better by calling her names and trying his best to hurt her."

"He can be such a jerk," Brenda reasoned.

"I guess you have to feel a bit sorry for him," he replied, defending his friend. "It can't be easy to get over someone you still love." He paused; he couldn't speak from experience. He had had girlfriends, but he had never really been in love.

"He doesn't try that hard," she pointed out. "How was Kelly?" Her concern turned to her friend.

"She was upset, from what I could see. I don't know, though, cause I didn't really talk to her. She and Donna came over to say goodbye, which wasn't too long after the whole Steve incident. I'd say they were gone by about ten o'clock."

"I guess I'll have to get more out of her tomorrow," Brenda said, examining a fingernail and picking at a cuticle. "So anything else interesting go on?" Brandon shook his head.

"I spent most of the evening hanging out, watching Steve getting annihilated, waiting for him to finally have had enough so I could drive him home," he replied. "He had another run in with that freshman who drove him home from that party earlier this year, took swing kid, missed and fell down, but not before scaring him and his friend off."

"He did not!" Brenda exclaimed, stifling a giggle. She knew Steve's behavior was not really grounds for amusement.

"He did. Luckily for me, he didn't hurt himself, had way too much to drink by about 11:30, and I was able to convince him to leave. He fell asleep in the car on the way to his house."

"How'd you get him into the house?"

"His mom's personal assistant." Brandon smirked at the memory. Brenda looked doubtfully at her brother.

"What is Steve's mother's personal assistant still doing at their house so late at night?" she asked suspiciously. Brandon gave her a knowing look.

"He's probably more than a personal assistant, Bren. Anyway he kind of just hauled Steve into the house. I never did see his mom," he added. Yet another reason he felt more than a twinge of sympathy for his friend. Sure, Samantha Sanders seemed nice enough the only time he had met the woman, but from what he knew, Steve was usually put on the back burner when it came to her priorities. Brandon knew Steve had a father who was long-since separated from his mother, but he had yet to hear his friend say more than a fleeting word about the man. All it took was a quick look at any of the friends either he or Brenda had made in Beverly Hills, and he was that much more grateful to his own parents for the way the two of them had been raised.

"Steve's a mess," Brenda sighed. "Anyway…" she drew out the word, her voice sing-song as she did so. "Don't you want to hear about my date?"

"Not really," he admitted. His sister's happiness was important to him, but the last thing he wanted was details. Brenda wrinkled her nose at him and stuck her tongue out.

"Like I'd really tell you that kind of stuff," she retorted, reading his mind. "What I wanted to tell you was something Dylan told me tonight, and I guess I'm looking for advice."

"About?"

"Well," she sighed, sitting up and tucking her legs under her. "Dylan's basically ditching school for the whole week to go down and visit his father in Mexico." Brandon hesitated and nodded slightly.

"I know." Brenda's eyes widened, and her eyes flickered with confusion.

"How do you know?" she said accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't something I would have hid from you, Bren, but Dylan told me just a few minutes before you came downstairs to meet him for your date. I knew it was something he probably wanted to discuss with you himself, and it wasn't my place to pull you aside and tell you on your way out the door." He paused. "You understand?"

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Well, when he told you, how did you react?"

"I asked him if he thought it was a good idea to blow off school like that," he replied. Recognition dawned on Brenda's face.

"So that's what he meant by that comment," she muttered to herself, remembering Dylan's barb about her sounding like her brother. He meant it literally, she realized. "Brandon, is it wrong of me to worry about him like that? I mean," she hedged, biting her lip, "I've never been in a relationship that was getting serious as fast as I am with Dylan. Do I even have a right to be concerned about stuff like this?" Her brother smiled sympathetically at her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Bren, the way I look at it, you have every right. Heck, you might be the only voice of reason in Dylan's life. Look at his parents," he offered as Brenda nodded slowly.

"I guess that's why it's good he has a friend like you. You're a Boy Scout compared to most of these kids out here." It was Brandon's turn to make a face.

"Do you have to keep reminding me? I might have to go do something crazy to shed my disgustingly wholesome image, huh? What do you think, a tattoo maybe?" he joked. Brenda snorted.

"No one has to worry about that. You still scream like a girl when it's time for your flu shot."

"Alright, Bren," he warned, smiling. "That's enough out of you."

"Well, you did spend a night in jail, that's kind of hard core," she reminded him. He groaned.

"Let us never speak of that again." He stood up, deciding it was late, he was tired, and he was going to attempt to send Brenda the hint that he wanted to go to bed, but she looked towards her window, a thoughtful expression on her pretty face.

"What am I going to do without Dylan for a week?" she lamented.

"I think you'll manage," he replied wryly. "You're looking for sympathy from the wrong person, Bren. You have someone to be missing, remember." Brenda knitted her brows and smiled ruefully.

"Brandon, are you feeling lonely? Come on, you've dated plenty of girls since we've been in Beverly Hills. It seems like there's a new one each week."

"That's the problem," he sighed. "There's a new one because I don't like any of them enough to see them more than a few times." He shook his head. "There's just something off about the girls here, that's all. Dating was easier back in Minnesota, that's all."

"Speak for yourself," she giggled.

"I am," he shot back.

"You'll find your princess, Brandon," she promised. "She's out there somewhere." Brenda chewed on her lip and thought about her best friend. She knew Kelly Taylor would like nothing more than to be that girl for Brandon. For a moment, she even contemplated telling him about her friend's crush, then decided against it. Brandon would most likely smile politely, say that Kelly was a beautiful girl, but she wasn't his type, and it would most likely make things uncomfortable for both parties in the future. Given that Kelly seemed to spend almost as much time at the Walsh house as her own, Brenda leaned in the direction of keeping things cordial between her friend and her brother.

"What about Andrea Zuckerman?" she asked suddenly, watching her twin's face for any reaction at the mention of the name. No blushing, no fidgeting, she noticed, but she thought she saw a hint of a smile tug at Brandon's mouth.

"What about her?" Brandon replied, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, as she realized he had been slowing inching towards his own room. She ignored his not-so-subtle hint to end the conversation and instead pressed on.

"Duh, Brandon, that girl has such a crush on you," she grinned. "You're dense if you don't see it." It seemed as if every time Brenda saw the petite brunette, she was making eyes at Brandon.

"Andrea's a nice girl," he answered evasively. Brenda raised her eyebrows and swung her legs over to reach the floor, standing and crossing her arms casually.

"Oh?" she teased. "A nice girl? That's all?"

"She's a good friend," he added, his face remaining poker-straight, not betraying any kind of emotion he harbored towards Andrea. Brenda studied him carefully, looking for any tell-tale sign he was hiding something.

"She likes you, Brandon. And she's pretty, in a way that's way more what you would have seen back in Minnesota, since you were just complaining about that, and she's really smart, and she's not afraid to express her opinion, and you need someone to keep you on your toes…"

"Whoa!" Brandon interrupted her, holding up his hands in protest. "Bren, slow down. When did you become Andrea's head cheerleader?" Brenda flushed and chided herself silently for getting carrying away. She even swallowed the small lump of guilt that had worked its way into her throat, feeling as if she was betraying Kelly by championing someone else as a better match for her brother.

"I just meant, well, I guess I meant that sometimes things can be right in front of your face without you even knowing them," she finished lamely. Brandon's mouth curved slightly on the right side, and his aqua-hued eyes twinkled.

"I know Andrea has a thing for me, Bren," he replied. "I'm just not sure that's a bridge I want to cross." He raised his body from its resting place against the door, and he walked towards her. "But thanks for your concern. I guess when it comes down to it, I'm pretty lucky to have a sister like you." He flashed her a smile. "But now I'm going to tell you to shut up, because I'm tired, and as much as I love ya, I want to go to sleep." Brenda laughed and nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, leaning up to wrap her arms around her brother's neck for a quick hug. "Night Brandon."

"Night, Bren," he murmured, releasing her. "Glad you had a good date."

"Sorry your evening wasn't better," she added. He nodded.

"That makes two of us," he called over his shoulder. "Sleep tight." He closed the door to her bedroom behind him, flicking off the bathroom light as he entered his own room. He stepped out of the shorts, as he usually preferred to sleep in just his boxer shorts, and after a moment's thought, he also pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it over his desk chair. He then climbed into bed.

As he got settled under the sheets, he found himself thinking about Andrea Zuckerman. And then he found his mind wandering to Kelly Taylor, and something else Dylan McKay had said to him earlier that evening. "_She's a beautiful girl, man. You couldn't really ask for more than Kelly Taylor." _His brain kept jumping between the two, conjuring alternating images of the brainy brunette and the bubbly blonde.

Brandon sighed and punched at his pillow. Things were definitely easier back in Minnesota.

***

David stared at the glow-in-the dark decals sprinkled across the ceiling, his eyes settling on a perfect replication of the Big Dipper. He had stared at the very same stars every time he slept over Scott's house, being his sleeping spot on the top bunk of Scott's beds was so close to the ceiling, but for the first time, tonight he found himself growing irritated with the decals. He remembered back to the first time he had seen them, how in awe he and Scott had been of the painstakingly authentic job Scott's father had done in recreating the night sky in his young son's bedroom. David also recalled the envy he had felt, even as a seven-year-old, at the quality time the Scanlons spent with Scott and his siblings. Of course, now that quality time seemed to veer towards over-protectiveness, and David no longer felt as resentful of their family unity. He now felt lucky that his father pretty much left him alone to do whatever he wanted. How times changed.

Tonight, however, in the closed space of Scott's small bedroom, the stars belied the fact they were really so much further apart in the real night sky, and the idea of that incredible vastness got David to thinking about how much things had changed since high school had started. He was starting to feel like he was drifting away from his oldest friend, and the space that had once seemed nonexistent between them was quickly becoming a chasm.

Scott's labored snoring began again, as he must have shifted position in his sleep in the bunk below David, and David exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to block out the glowing decals, bemoaning the fact that in spite of the lights going out nearly an hour earlier, he was still wide awake.

They had left the party shortly after Kelly Taylor and her friend Donna had made their exit and their departure wasn't entirely voluntary. Even though his dream girl had left, David still wanted to make the most of the evening and stick around, maybe even have a beer or two before he and Scott needed to be back at the Scanlon house. He knew Scott would never have been able to lie to his mother and tell her they had decided to spend the night at David's, especially since she would have insisted he come home to get his inhaler. As it was, Scott had fibbed once already by telling her they had gone to a movie, and they'd be home by eleven.

He and Scott had been watching a group of seniors play some drinking game around the fire pit, a game called "I Never." It was mildly amusing to watch, and since they weren't trying to make their presences overly obvious, lingering was the best option to remain low-key. Unfortunately for them, Steve Sanders had been drinking, and the alcohol seemed to amplify his memory. The tall blonde junior had come lumbering towards them, beer clutched in hand, yelling about how David was the one who had taken his Corvette without permission and crashed it. David had hoped he had forgotten that whole incident, even though Steve had asked him to drive, and he had never specifically asked about a driver's license.

In his rant, Steve had given the boys two options. The first was to leave the party and as he put it "get the hell out of my sight." The second option was more risky: they could stay at the party, but Steve would see to it that they didn't have working legs on which to pedal their bikes home. When David had hesitated, Steve had taken a swing at him, missed, fallen down, and that was when the boys had decided it was best to just leave. David didn't want his life to end before he had a chance to fulfill his dream of dating Kelly Taylor.

As he often did, he found himself thinking about the beautiful blonde again, for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

He smirked, reviewing the plan he had hatched earlier that evening once more in his head. Scott had done him a favor, pointing out that you never really saw Kelly Taylor without Donna Martin. Sure, Brandon Walsh's sister was with them a lot too, but he had heard she was now dating Dylan McKay. Everyone knew that guy. He was a legend among boys at Palm View Middle School, where David and Scott had attended junior high. Dylan had not, but in spite of being two years older and having gone to the other middle school in West Beverly's school district, there wasn't a kid who didn't know Dylan McKay. David had heard stories that Dylan had slept with a guidance counselor, had gotten a girl pregnant and had dated Miss Teen California, all before his junior year at West Beverly. True or not, David admired the guy. There was a reason girls swooned at his feet.

To get close to Kelly Taylor, you needed to infiltrate her inner circle. Brenda Walsh was a dead end, given her status as Dylan McKay's girlfriend. No girl would willingly step down from that position. So his only option was Donna Martin. He was going to have to do his best to befriend the girl, which he knew would be a tall order, since most juniors weren't apt to socialize with freshmen. But Donna struck him as kind of ditzy, and from what he saw, she was a friendly girl, so he hoped there would be some way he could nonchalantly strike up a conversation with her, and he'd go from there. One way or another, he was going to make Kelly his.

He cringed and pulled the pillow over his ears as Scott snored loudly and waited for sleep to overtake him.

***

Donna listened to Kelly's soft, even breathing coming from above her, twisting on her side on the pull-out bed that Kelly had put up for her. Even as kids, Kelly had never done the sleeping bag thing, and she had never been one for bunk beds or trundles. Donna was always given a hotel-like cot to sleep on, one that was surprisingly comfortable by fold-out bed standards. At her house, Donna had always insisted the girls do the sleeping bag thing. It was only recently that Kelly had sniffed that sleeping bags were below them, and Donna had convinced her parents to spring for air mattresses.

She let her eyes wander around the darkened room, a shard of light escaping from under the bathroom door where Kelly had left the vanity bulbs glowing. She followed the skinny sliver along the floor until it faded into blackness.

Kelly had been sleeping soundly for the better part of the last hour. After arriving home from the party and finding her mom was still out, Kelly and Donna had raided the refrigerator and pigged out, giggling and chatting while watching Dirty Dancing for the 100th time. Both girls were surprised to find themselves nodding off by midnight, and in spite of Jackie still not arriving home, they trudged up to bed. Kelly had slipped right into slumber, but Donna was frustrated to find herself now wide-awake, with no sign of sleep tugging at her.

She thought about the movie, about Patrick Swayze, his rugged good looks and his sexy smile, and she lamented to herself why guys couldn't be more like movie stars. It seemed so easy to her, and yet, most of the guys she knew were morons or jerks. All of the guys she had dated…well, both of them fell into those two categories. One was a moron, the other a grade-A jerk. Two boyfriends was all she had to show for high school so far, and neither one of them had been worth her time.

It only made her feel slightly better that her best friend hadn't been any luckier in love than she had. Kelly's experience far outreached hers, but she was no happier for it, constantly bemoaning her poor decision-making to Donna. Donna could only smile and remind her that not having sex was the only way to avoid regrets. Kelly always bitterly replied that it was far too late for that.

Donna knew it was going to get progressively harder to stick to her morals and wait for marriage to have sex; so far, it had been a breeze, as she had yet to be even remotely challenged. She wanted a boyfriend, badly…a guy who'd sweep her off her feet and make her want to do nothing put spend every waking hour with him. Like what she saw happening to Brenda with Dylan McKay.

But even with her sights set on Tom Hartman, she knew deep down that a guy like Tom would most likely expect a girl to put out, and Donna was not prepared to say she'd give up the pledge she had made to herself years ago. Most high school guys wouldn't wait for her; she wasn't naïve.

Donna sighed and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes, waiting for the familiar lull of sleep to begin to descend on her. Heaving another frustrated sigh, she opened her eyes once more, fighting the urge to wake up Kelly for a late-night chat. She'd just have to make do with the voices in her head.

***

Andrea shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth, chewing slowly as the flickering television bathed the darkened living room in a muted blue glow. She knew she shouldn't be snacking at nearly one in the morning, but she just couldn't ignore the growing rumblings of her stomach. Her grandmother's friends had long since gone home, Grandma Rose herself turning in well over two hours ago. Andrea had found a blanket, popped some popcorn and settled into a corner of the couch to watch old movies, as she often did on Friday evenings to try to fall asleep faster. Most nights it worked, and Grandma Rose would find her early Saturday morning, television still on, and it would always be a joke who could find Andrea's glasses first, wherever they had slipped off to during her slumber.

But tonight, she wasn't feeling the slightest bit tired, and she knew it was because her mind could not let go of Brandon Walsh. Her stomach, no longer grumbling, instead flip-flopped at the mere thought of him, and she felt embarrassed in spite of herself for having such strong feelings for him. Andrea had never been one to dwell on hopeless crushes, and she would reluctantly admit to anyone who asked that she had never really had more than a passing interest in a guy up until Brandon.

Andrea frowned, knowing that she wasn't the only girl at West Beverly that had feelings for Brandon Walsh. And it figured she had to set her sights on a guy who had also landed himself on the radar of Kelly Taylor.

She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump of jealousy that had bubbled up as she thought about all the things that could have happened at that stupid party that Brandon was going to earlier that night, knowing Kelly was going to be there, probably dressed in some tight slutty dress, doing her best to look irresistible to the better part of the male student body that had flocked to Tom Hartman's house. She had said more than one prayer that Brandon hadn't fallen prey to her advances. She guessed she'd find out Monday morning.

A smile formed on her lips as she remembered the other thing she was going to ask Brandon about on Monday. She knew with the right amount of persuasion and coaxing, she could convince Brandon to throw his name into consideration for Student Council president. West Beverly could use someone like Brandon in charge of things, and Andrea secretly knew he'd most likely seek her advice on any number of things, so it was like running without the hassle of campaigning and subjecting herself to the ridiculous mudslinging that high-schoolers were capable of.

She already had a slogan picked out and about twenty ideas for campaign posters.

Brandon just couldn't say no.

Smile still on her face, the remote control slipped from her hand and her eyes began to close.

***

Dylan raised the small glass of amber liquid to his eye, and swirled it casually before lowering the shot to his lips and chasing it swiftly. The bourbon gave his throat a comforting burn as he swallowed it and plunked the glass down on the wet bar. What warm milk did for some was the same effect the nightcap had for him. He twisted his lips in contemplation as he studied the half-empty bottle of Jim Beam, craving another shot. The temptation had already led him to down two prior to the one he had just knocked back, but he battled the sinister voices in his head and replaced the cap on the bourbon.

He leaned back against the bar and scanned the hotel suite, marveling over the fact that in spite of being in the room for the better part of the year, it still failed to feel like home.

Home was a word that was wholly foreign to him, no thanks to his parents. It's hard to feel like you belong someplace when your mother is a nomadic hippy and your father bounces between hotel suites. Jack McKay never did strive for home ownership, and Dylan knew the lack of a permanent address had more to do with the fact his father's current residence was south of the border. Daddy dearest was not on the up and up, a fact Dylan chose to ignore rather than accept. As for his mother, Iris McKay was best left to reading tarot cards and meditating on the powdery sands of a Hawaiian beach. The less people to meddle in his affairs, the better. Dylan had essentially been on his own since he was twelve, and he liked it that way.

He shed his clothes and turned off the lights, throwing back the plush jacquard comforter and sliding between the cool satin sheets. The fabric glided over his bare flesh as he got settled, and he reluctantly acknowledged the perks of shacking up at a luxury hotel.

As he lay on his back, staring at the shadows creeping across the ceiling, he thought about the evening that he had just spent with Brenda Walsh. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he pictured the sweet, fresh-faced girl. He loved the permanent sparkle that seemed to be in her granite-gray eyes, and the fact she looked just as beautiful as most of the overly made-up girls at West Beverly with half the effort amazed him. She was like no girl he had dated before, and it was part of the reason that he was feeling so ambivalent about their relationship. Guys like him were not supposed to be with girls like her.

He could never tell Brenda that part of the reason he was going to Mexico to visit his old man had nothing to do with his dad at all. He knew she'd never understand, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her. He needed some time away, some time alone to reflect. Heck, he hated to admit it, but he actually needed some fatherly advice from dear old Jack.

He punched at his pillow in annoyance, wishing that love didn't have to be so complicated. It was much easier to get involved with a girl with no emotional strings attached, much like the girls in his past. The "L word" had never even skimmed the surface with any of his past conquests.

And he was falling in love with Brenda Walsh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**P.S. **_Yes, I imagine Dylan slept naked. So what?


	10. Everybody Wants to Rule the World

**Chapter 10: Everybody Wants to Rule the World**

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Brenda mused, looking over at her brother, whose eyes were fixed firmly on the road in front of him. He shrugged and continued staring straight ahead.

"I guess I've got some things on my mind," he replied cryptically. Brenda raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed glance.

"I'm all ears if you want to share," she offered. Brandon's lips twisted into a slight smile, but almost as quickly as it appeared, it faded away.

"Thanks, Bren, but it's not that big a deal."

"This week is gonna suck," she exhaled, changing the subject. "I miss Dylan already." She was depressed at the thought of not waiting for Dylan by her locker, his sweet embrace the only pick-me-up she usually had on a dreary Monday morning.

"Just think, you'll get your homework done at night," he teased, flicking the windshield wipers on as the rain that was lightly misting before began to fall more earnestly.

"Very funny," she retorted dryly. "I've never neglected my schoolwork, for your information."

"Well, then, you'll have more time for your recreational activities. Oh wait, you don't have any other than Dylan McKay 101," he joked, but Brenda thought she detected an edge of sarcasm to his voice, not to mention a sudden 180 in attitude.

"You're one to talk, Brandon," she snapped, her mood darkening at his snide accusation. "All you have to show for extra-curricular activities is the newspaper. You're not exactly changing the world." She didn't like bickering with him, but he had brought it on himself.

"I have a job," he replied, the blinker clicking several times as he made the right turn into the school parking lot.

"You have a job because you're sick of Mondale and you want a better car," she suggested. "Mom and Dad have always told us that school comes first, and they've provided us with essentials. So I don't need a job."

"Whatever, Brenda," he sighed, guiding the car into a vacant spot and cutting the engine. Brenda placed her hand atop of his, which was resting atop the gear shift.

"What is your problem this morning?" she asked softly. "Is something wrong?" She had to admit she was mildly concerned. The attitude was just not something she was used to coming from her calm, collected brother.

"I told you I had a lot on my mind," he reiterated. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Bren. I shouldn't have said what I did." Brandon paused. "Do you ever wish we were back in Minnesota?"

"I did, at first. But now…" she trailed off, glancing out the window at the large, pretty campus spread out before them. She shrugged, following a lone raindrop's path along the window. "I like it here. I've got a great boyfriend, good friends…"

"You don't miss being Miss Everything?" he asked, meeting her eyes with his.

"What are you talking about?"

"Back in Minnesota. You did so much more, Bren. The school play, Honor Society, softball. We both did. I mean, you're right. Newspaper and the Pit, that's all I have to show for myself since we moved here." He shook his head and flopped back against the seat. "I was so much more in Minneapolis, that's all."

"Brandon, we've haven't even been here a year yet," she replied sympathetically, surprised by Brandon's sudden outburst of insecurity. "We still have time to make our marks." She studied his face, seeing the frustration etched on his forehead and heavy in his usually-happy eyes. "Bran, what's bothering you?"

"Don't worry about it," he said firmly, pulling the keys from the ignition and turning to her, giving her a reassuring smile. "I shouldn't have started our Monday off like this. As if this day wasn't gross enough to begin with." He reached over and squeezed her forearm, smiling more broadly. "I'm sorry, okay. I've got to stop by the Blaze office before getting to homeroom. Have a good day, alright?" Brenda reached for the umbrella at her feet and reached for the door handle.

"You too, Brandon," she replied, exiting the car and opening the umbrella, watching her brother dart quickly through the driving rain towards the main quad, in the direction of the newspaper office. She slung her bag over her shoulder and closed the door, clutching the umbrella tightly as she made her way across the same path Brandon had just taken, heading towards her locker. Once inside, she closed the umbrella and shook the water from it.

"Hey Bren!" At the sound of her name, Brenda craned her neck and saw Donna and Kelly standing near Donna's locker, and both girls gave a little wave. Brenda glanced down at her watch and saw that Brandon had gotten them to school with time to spare before homeroom, so she made her way towards her friends. They had some catching up to do, she realized, since the weekend had passed with no phone call from either girl, and Brenda had spent Saturday helping her mother clean the garage and most of Sunday doing a paper for English class. Weekends without Dylan were utterly boring, she had decided.

"Hi," she smiled brightly, stopping in front of them.

"Hey," Donna grinned back. Kelly crooked her head at Brenda and glanced past her, a slight air of disappointment clouding her pretty face. Brenda assumed she had been looking for Brandon.

"Did you guys have fun Friday night?" Brenda asked. Donna and Kelly exchanged a glance.

"You didn't miss anything," Donna replied. "Steve made an ass of himself, as usual, and we left right after that."

"I know, Brandon told me," she answered, noting the subtle change in Kelly's expression at the mention of her brother's name.

"Steve's an asshole," Kelly replied bluntly.

"How was your date with Dylan?" Donna queried, her brown eyes wide with curiosity.

"Heavenly," she sighed, unable to suppress the dreamy smile that crept onto her lips. "We went down to the beach after dinner…"

"You didn't!" Kelly interjected, her blue eyes blazing indignantly.

"Relax, Mom," Brenda retorted. "I didn't sleep with him," she whispered softly. "It wasn't the right time."

"Good," Kelly breathed. "Take your time, Bren. You'll thank me later, I promise." She winked. "So where is Loverboy this morning?" she asked pointedly, hugging her books to her chest as she leaned against the row of lockers.

"So get this," Brenda began, sighing dramatically. "Dylan told me Friday night that he was going down to Mexico for the week to spend some time with his dad."

"A week?" Donna exclaimed. "He's gonna miss a week of school!"

"Somehow, I'm sure that was not his top concern, Don," Kelly snickered dryly. "So he went to Mexico?" She raised an eyebrow at Brenda, who nodded slowly.

"Yeah, it sucks," she replied. "He called me late Saturday afternoon to let me know he had gotten down there safely, but we didn't talk yesterday at all. It feels weird to go a day without hearing his voice."

"Well, you know what they say," Donna offered, trying to be positive.

"A week without your boyfriend sucks?" Brenda suggested. Donna laughed.

"I thought it was absence makes the heart grow fonder," she giggled. Kelly tossed her head.

"Whoever said that was just trying to make themselves feel better," she replied, examining a chipped fingernail. "But maybe it will be good, Bren. We can spend some time together while Dylan's gone." Brenda thought she heard an edge of hopefulness in her friend's voice, and she remembered Dylan's own comment that perhaps she had been ignoring Kelly and Donna. She plastered a wide smile on her face and nodded with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, we can," she agreed.

"Just no slumber parties," Donna warned, cringing at the memory of the last slumber party at Brenda's house. "Unless, of course, it's just the three of us."

"I think we can manage that," Brenda nodded.

"Can we not call it that, though?" Kelly wrinkled her nose. "It just sounds so…I don't know. Childish. Like we're still in middle school."

"What do you want to call it then?" Donna said doubtfully.

"Let's just call it girls' night," she replied. "We can pick a really great restaurant and go have dinner, and then we can go back to Brenda's, I mean, as long as it's okay with your mom," she added quickly. Brenda rolled her eyes playfully.

"You think my mom ever passes up the chance to play hostess for us?" she laughed.

"Fair point," Kelly concurred. "So let's plan on Friday night then. It will give Brenda something to look forward to, other than those long-distance phone calls," she teased. "You know, phone sex is way safer than the real thing."

"Kelly!" Brenda and Donna exclaimed in unison, exchanging a shocked look as a wicked twinkle gleamed in Kelly's eyes.

"Just something to think about," she smirked. The bell rang, warning all those lingering in the halls to get to homeroom or be awarded a late pass.

"I'll see you in Chemistry, Kel," Brenda called as she turned to walk to her homeroom. Kelly nodded, and she and Donna strode off in the opposite direction, shoulder to shoulder as they continued chatting and giggling. Brenda frowned, a pang of longing tugging at her heart. At least when Dylan was with her, she felt less like a third wheel. Her eyes swept down the hall to where Dylan's locker was, wishing he was leaning against it, his dark eyes smoldering as he flashed her that seductive smile.

"Snap out of it, sis, or you're gonna be late to homeroom." She spun around and found Brandon emerging from the _Blaze_ office.

"You're in the same boat I am," she replied. "Did you get what you needed to do done?"

"Ah, no," Brandon shook his head. "I needed to talk to Andrea, and I have yet to see her this morning."

"She's around somewhere," Brenda pointed out. "That girl would come to school on her deathbed."

"You're probably right," he snickered. "I'll catch her at some point today." He knew Andrea was going to want to hear what he had to say.

"What do you need to talk to her about?" Brenda asked innocently, hiding a smile. Brandon gave her a withering look.

"It's not what you think," he replied as they reached their homeroom classroom and settled into their seats, just minutes before the late bell chimed shrilly.

"Oh?" Brenda whispered, leaning forward across her desk. Brandon twisted in his seat and shot his sister another glare over his shoulder.

"You'll see," was his curt reply. He knew he could cut Andrea off before her first period class, given that her homeroom was next-door, since West Beverly assigned them by last name, and Brenda and Brandon were the last two students in their homeroom before the rest of the Ws were lumped in the with meager Ys and Zs.

But when the first period bell rang a few moments later and the halls flooded with noisy students making their ways to their classes, Andrea never materialized from the classroom where she should have been for homeroom. Brandon waited a few moments, suspecting she could have been chatting with the teacher, who taught her biology class, but after several minutes with no one else emerging from the room and many students pushing past him to file into the room, Brandon shrugged it off and started for his own first period class. Perhaps even Andrea Zuckerman got sick.

The morning passed uneventfully, and Brandon took the opportunity to head back to the _Blaze_ office during his third-period study hall, which was typically the first time during a school day when he would cross paths with Andrea.

Pushing open the office door, he indeed found Andrea hunched over a desk, her back to him as she appeared to be scrutinizing an article left for her to edit. Brandon could see the red pen tapping rhythmically against the desk. He grinned and closed the door soundlessly, moving stealthily across the floor.

"And here I figured you'd be stalking me, working me a little harder for my decision about running for Student Council," he announced, snickering as Andrea jumped, the pen clattering to the floor. She swiveled in the chair and managed a wan smile.

"I had a dentist's appointment, so I just got to school. Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not nice to sneak up on people," she reprimanded, reaching down to retrieve the pen, tucking it just above her left ear where it camouflaged itself among her chestnut curls.

"I'm practicing being a little meaner," he began, leaning against the desk opposite hers. "Don't you have to have a thick skin when you become a politician?" Andrea's eyes widened in realization, and she sprung to her feet.

"Are you serious?" she squealed. "You're gonna do it?"

"Call me a glutton for punishment, but yeah, I guess I am. It's about time I get more involved in my school, and last I checked West Beverly didn't have an ice hockey team."

"No, we don't," she replied quickly. "Though that might be less painful than a Student Council campaign."

"Are you trying to make me regret my decision?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. The giddy smile that was still etched on her face quickly faded, and she shook her head vigorously.

"No! No, not at all," she assured. She clapped her hands together in front of her, the smile returning to her face. "Brandon, this is going to be great. I promise you, you won't regret this."

"I'm not doing this alone, you know," he replied, straightening up and taking a step towards her. "You're in this as much as I am."

"That's fine!" she exclaimed. "I'll take care of everything." She turned and began to pace, and Brandon could almost see the gears turning in her head. "Well, I guess the first thing we need to do is declare your candidacy and get a petition from Mrs. Teasley. You need two hundred signatures to run."

"Two hundred?" he repeated, incredulous. "I don't know two hundred people. I'm not sure there were two hundred people in the sophomore class back in Minnesota." Andrea gave him a pointed look.

"Brandon, there are nearly six hundred kids in the junior class alone. Trust me, I'll get you two hundred signatures. That's not an issue."

"Okay," he agreed. "Cause I do. Trust you, that is." He smiled at her, and she blushed, looking away quickly. "I think it's safe to say I'm counting on your complete and total support, Andrea. We're a team from here on out."

"Absolutely," she murmured, still avoiding his eyes completely. Brandon leaned forward and gave her a hug. It must have caught her off-guard, because she was initially stiff in his arms, softening a bit as he started to release her. Their eyes locked, and what seemed like an eternity passed before Andrea cleared her throat and inched backwards.

"I should go get a petition from Mrs. Teasley then?" Brandon offered.

"Yeah, we should get moving on that. Michael Miller is running unopposed right now, but I've heard rumors that Lauren Henderson is mulling a run, and as beatable as Michael Miller is, she'd be a challenge."

"Okay," he exhaled. "Well…"

"Brandon." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Thanks. You're going to be great."

"Let's hope so," he smiled.

"Do you, um, want me to come with you to Mrs. Teasley's office?" she asked tentatively. His smile widened.

"That would be good, thanks." She nodded and turned to her desk, stacking the papers she had been perusing and shoving them into her backpack. Slinging it over her shoulder, she motioned towards the door, and he walked over, opening it and following her out into the empty hall. Neither of them said a word as they began heading to Mrs. Teasley's office at the end of the hallway.

And then suddenly, Kelly stepped into the hall, the girls' room door swinging shut behind her.

"Brandon, hi!" she smiled brightly, blonde ponytail swinging as she strutted towards him.

"Hey, Kelly," he replied, returning her smile, sensing Andrea bristling beside him.

"Where are you two going?" she asked, her eyes sliding towards Andrea, who evaded her gaze.

"Oh, well, we need to see Mrs. Teasley." Kelly raised her eyebrows at him, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"I'm guessing this has nothing to do with discipline, given it's you two do-gooders that we're talking about," she joked.

"Shouldn't you be in class, Kelly?" Andrea piped up. Kelly glared at the shorter girl and returned her attention to Brandon.

"I'm going to get a petition for Student Council president," Brandon explained, jamming his hands in his pockets and waiting for her reaction.

"Really?" Kelly's eyes widened, and she seemed to ponder the revelation for a moment. A smile played on her lips, and she pursed them at him coyly. "I can totally see it, actually. You've got that young John F. Kennedy thing going on."

"Brandon, can we get going?" Andrea asked impatiently, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder. He gave her a sympathetic glance and nodded.

"We'll catch you later, Kelly," he added, giving the blonde one last smile before turning to follow Andrea. Kelly narrowed her eyes and turned, flouncing off in the opposite direction. Brandon watched her disappear into a classroom, and he immediately felt bad that he had been short with her.

"Are you coming?" Andrea repeated, holding the guidance office door open wide for him. He nodded and strode into the office, hanging back while Andrea marched to the secretary's desk in front of Mrs. Teasley's office. Both the junior class vice-principal and the several guidance counselors assigned to the class were housed in the office, but it was Mrs. Blume, the ancient secretary, who was the real pulse and brains of it all.

"I'd like a petition for Student Council," Andrea declared, giving Mrs. Blume a generous smile. The old woman peered at Andrea over the rims of her bifocals and folded her hands together atop the desk.

"Which office, dear?"

"President," Andrea responded boldly, flashing Brandon a grin over her shoulder. He returned the smile a bit half-heartedly, wondering why it was nagging at him the way Kelly had walked away from him. At second thought, he found himself worrying that he had hurt her feelings.

"Alright, young lady…" Andrea shook her head, curls springing.

"Uh uh. It's for him," she corrected, gesturing at Brandon. Mrs. Blume craned her neck to peek around Andrea and gave Brandon a sweet smile.

"Well, step on up here young man. Can't be shy if you're going to run for president, now can you?" Brandon sighed and stepped towards the desk. "Here's what you need to do. Put your name on the top of this sheet, and you must collect two hundred signatures, no duplicates mind you, and the sheet must be completed by this Wednesday."

"Wednesday!" Brandon sputtered. He cut his eyes at Andrea. "I didn't know the deadline was so soon."

"Relax, Brandon. We'll have those signatures by Wednesday, easy." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh, and Mrs. Teasley and Mr. Myers, the Student Council advisor, will be verifying signatures, so no making up names. Kids can be quite creative you know." She clucked her tongue and smiled again. "Any questions?"

"Um, no I guess," Brandon answered, staring down at the blank paper in his hand. The sheer number of empty lines for signatures was a bit daunting at first glance.

"Well then good luck to you. Seems to me you're only the second one to ask for one of those things."

"Thanks," Andrea called, pulling Brandon by the hand out the office door into the still-vacant hallway. "That's good," she hissed, a satisfied smile creeping onto her face. "We know Michael Miller's running, but clearly Lauren has yet to get a petition, so maybe she's not going to run after all."

"Okay, we've got the petition, can we worry about it at lunch, maybe? I'd like to use what's left of my study hall to actually study for the history quiz I have this afternoon."

"Sure, I guess, but we can't drag our feet too long. Do you want me to start getting signatures at lunch?" she offered hesitantly. "I'd be happy to do that for you."

"That would be great, Andrea," he smiled gratefully.

"Okay," she grinned. "I meant it, Brandon, I'll do whatever I can to help you with this campaign, given that I kind of pushed you to do it." She paused. "I guess I'm your campaign manager?"

"I guess you are, Chief. I'm gonna go. We can talk later this afternoon, okay?" She nodded, taking the paper from his outstretched hand.

"See you later," she called after him. He gave her one last smile as he headed off to cram for a bit before study hall was over.

***

"So did you hear?" Donna exclaimed, breathlessly as she set her lunch tray down next to Brenda and slid onto the bench in the noisy cafeteria, the rain spoiling their usual outdoor lunch plans.

"Did I hear what?" Brenda asked, dipping her spoon into a carton of yogurt and taking a small bite.

"Your brother is running for Student Council president!" Donna announced dramatically. Brenda coughed and nearly choked on the yogurt that was in her mouth.

"What?" she gasped. "Where did you hear that?"

"Kelly."

"Where did she hear it?" Brenda asked suspiciously. Rumors certainly flew fast and furiously at West Beverly, and Brenda was certainly doubtful, given her brother hadn't said two words to her about a possible campaign for Student Council.

"She said she heard it from Brandon himself," Donna replied, popping open the tab of her Diet Coke and taking a sip. "Said she was coming back from the bathroom when she ran into Brandon in the hall. He was on his way to get a petition from Mrs. Teasley."

"Oh," she nodded slowly, and suddenly, the mercurial Brandon she had ridden to school with made total sense. "Oh," she repeated, more knowingly this time. His reference to being homesick, at being someone back in Minnesota and not having much to show for here in Beverly Hills now seemed logical. She wondered if the whole ride to school, he had been mulling over the decision to run or not to run, and if that might have accounted for his sudden snippiness.

"I think it's awesome!" Donna breathed. "I mean, your brother could be president of the whole school!"

"He ran for Student Council treasurer back in Minnesota," Brenda offered. "But then my dad found out about his transfer, and Brandon abandoned his campaign because he figured, what was the point?" She paused and plunged her spoon back into the yogurt. "President. That's such a big jump, and really, we haven't been here that long…"

"Bren, he's perfect," Donna reassured her. "Brandon's, like, one of the nicest guys in our class, and hello, have you seen him? He's hot, and compared to Michael Miller, your brother is like Patrick Swayze!"

"What is your obsession with Patrick Swayze?" Brenda laughed, color springing to Donna's cheeks.

"All I'm saying is Brandon will have a good chance if he runs a good campaign. You think he'll want our help? I can make signs and stuff!"

"I guess we can ask him when we see him later," Brenda smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. She scanned the cafeteria crowd and frowned. "Where is Kelly?" Donna shrugged.

"I don't know, actually. She said something about having a history quiz, but I've never known Kelly to ditch lunch to study for anything."

"Brandon was studying for that quiz all night," Brenda added. "Like he needs to study for anything."

"See," Donna laughed. "That's why he's perfect for president. Everything comes so easily to him." Brenda nodded in agreement while trying to suppress the nagging pang of jealousy she felt at hearing Donna gush about her brother. Living in Brandon's shadow was the story of her life, and she suffered mostly in silence.

"So what do you know about the guy Brandon is running against?"

"Michael Miller?" Donna supplied. She shrugged. "I don't know him that well. I mean, the last time I probably actually talked to him might have been kindergarten. And even then, I'm not sure he said more than two words. He's always seemed nice enough, but…" Donna hesitated. "He's kind of a nerd. I think he's in the marching band, and I'm pretty sure he's never been to a school dance."

"Oh," Brenda said thoughtfully. "What are the Student Council campaigns around here like?"

"Last year it was vicious. I mean, it was _mean_. But there were like, eight people running, and there was a run-off it was so close. Tom Hartman ran, and he came in second," she sighed wistfully. "He would have been a good president."

"Donna, I'm just curious. Have you ever actually spoken to Tom Hartman?" She blushed again and looked down at her tray.

"I sold him a cupcake for our Fashion Club bake sale in 7th grade," she said softly. "Does that count?" Brenda laughed.

"I guess it counts, but Don, how can you be so hung up on a guy you know so little about?"

"I don't know," she whispered, wringing her hands in her lap. "Bren, can we not talk about it?" she said suddenly, and Brenda sensed her friend's embarrassment. She squeezed Donna's hand and gave her a wide smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "Let's talk about something else then. What movies should we make my parents rent for us for Friday night? Something with Patrick Swayze?" she winked. Donna cracked a slight smile, and Brenda patted her forearm before taking her hand back, and lunch continued, and Brenda managed to pine for Dylan just twice before the bell rang.

***

"Here." Brandon glanced up from his desk, seated in his history class, waiting for Mr. Wells to arrive and distribute what was likely to be his usual nitpicky exam about the most trivial information from the chapter. He had been trying to remember if it was King Philip's War or the Tuscarora War that occurred first when the voice had broken his reverie. Kelly was standing above him, her sapphire eyes triumphant as she thrust a paper down at him.

"What is this?" he asked, taking the paper and glancing at it. It took a moment for it to register, as the sea of names swarmed before his eyes.

"It's your Student Council petition. Two hundred signatures. You can count them," she added, sliding into the seat next to his, even though her assigned desk was two rows over and three seats back. Brandon shook his head, dumbfounded as he studied the paper more carefully. He set it down and looked over at Kelly, who was smiling at him demurely.

"Kelly, I…" he trailed, finding himself at a loss for words. "How did you get this?"

"I went to Mrs. Teasley's office at lunch and got a petition myself. I knew you'd be worrying about this stupid quiz and wouldn't have had time to get started. So I thought I'd help you out. Put your name at the top, made my rounds at lunch, and before I knew it, I had filled the sheet." She tucked a stray strand of hair that had escaped her neat ponytail behind her ear and met his eyes, hers shining earnestly.

"I don't know what to say," he replied, stunned at her act of kindness.

"Thank you is fine by me," she smiled.

"Thank you," he repeated simply, looking up as the kid who usually sat to his right arrived. Kelly shot the boy a look before rising to her feet so he could sit down his desk.

"It was my pleasure, Brandon," she said confidently. "You know, you're going to need someone to run your campaign, and I…"

"Oh, Kelly," he began, hesitating momentarily; "I think Andrea has kind of already assumed that position." Her smile disappeared, and Brandon saw disappointment fill her eyes.

"Oh," she replied quietly. "Okay, then. Well, good luck on the quiz." She turned and made her way down the aisle, and he watched her slide effortlessly into her seat, retrieving a pencil from her bag and avoiding any casual glances in his direction. He heaved a sigh, realizing for the second time that day, he had inadvertently hurt her feelings, both times at the expense of Andrea Zuckerman.

He picked up the petition, reading name after name, and he marveled at the idea that a girl would have gone through that much trouble for him, all without being asked to do so. He snuck a backwards glance at Kelly, who was staring out the window, pencil tapping nervously against her desk.

"Clear your desks, people." The booming baritone interrupted his thoughts, and Brandon turned his attention to the front of the room where Mr. Wells was standing, stack of quizzes at hand, a sadistic smile on his face. What was it about quizzes and tests that gave teachers such pleasure, Brandon wondered ruefully. He retrieved the stack from the girl sitting in front of him, took one from the pile and continued passing the rest to the rear of his row. Mr. Wells droned through the directions, set the timer on his desk and settled down with a newspaper, as pencils began furiously scribbling on paper throughout the room.

Brandon was surprised at the ease with which he completed the quiz, and within twenty minutes, he had finished, flipping the paper over to indicate he was finished. Peeking back at Kelly, he noticed she appeared to be deep in thought, her pencil clenched between her perfectly-straight teeth, her brows furrowed. He watched her for several minutes, hoping she didn't look up and find him staring at her.

The timer on Mr. Wells's desk buzzed loudly, and he stood up, cracking his knuckles. "Okay, pencils down." Brandon saw Kelly make two last hasty circles on her paper before setting her pencil down on the desk. "Pass 'em forward and get out your books. On to the French and Indian War." A chorus of groans and grumbles mingled with the rustling of papers and smack of books being set down on the desks.

Brandon listened sporadically to the lecture, but his thoughts were largely occupied by Kelly. He was still beyond flattered that she had gotten his petition completely filled for him, and within a single period of him announcing his candidacy. She could deliver, he admitted, and he had to question the possibility of how valuable someone of Kelly's popularity could be to his campaign.

At the same time, he knew Andrea harbored a not-so-secretive jealousy towards the pretty blonde, and inviting Kelly to help out with the campaign would most likely ruffle Andrea's feathers. Still, Brandon didn't want any wounded feelings, and Kelly _was_ his sister's best friend.

When the bell rang to dismiss the class, he quickly made his way over to the front of the row where Kelly sat, blocking her exit so that she couldn't avoid him on her way out of the room.

"Kelly, wait," he asked as she came to a stop in front of him. She pressed her lips together tightly, her expression unreadable.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking," he started. "Well, I can probably use all the help I can get on this campaign, and if you'd really like to be part of it…"

"What about Andrea?" she challenged, her eyes flickering over him.

"She'll just have to deal with it. Three heads are better than two," he added, smiling at her. Kelly's own lips curled upward, a brazen smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I'd love to help you, Brandon," she replied, reaching for his hand. Her slender fingers laced through his, and she held his gaze almost hypnotically. He glanced down at their intertwined hands, swallowing at the seemingly-innocent contact.

"Great, thanks," he murmured, clearing his throat.

"I can come by after-school if you'd like, and we can start planning things," she offered, slowly releasing his hand and striding towards the door.

"Uh, that would be good," he nodded as they made their way into the bustling hall. He looked around uncertainly for Andrea, sure she was lurking somewhere. He braced himself for the reaction he was going to get when he informed Andrea that none other than Kelly Taylor was going to be co-chairing his campaign. If he weren't so anxious about her response, it might have been comical.

"Kelly!" They both glanced in the direction of the voice and found Donna and Brenda waving enthusiastically at her. Kelly waved back.

"I guess I should go," she stated.

"So, I'll see you later?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"It's a date," she affirmed, another teasing smile on her lips. She held his gaze again for what seemed like longer than the few seconds it was before she set off down the hall to where Brenda and Donna were waiting for her.

Brandon slumped against the wall. Something told him this campaign was going to get ugly, and it would have nothing to do with the election itself.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Author's Note: **_That certainly went on longer than I anticipated…I guess we'll have to wait and see Andrea's reaction, now shall we? And the best way to do that? Click that pretty little green button and tell me you want to see it!

I think next chapter might also call for some guy talk…albeit Steve talking to himself, and Dylan chatting with the old man. No?

I'm still stuck on Viva Las Vegas, but I do have a new story started, and I might be persuaded to get moving faster on that…hint, hint. ~Court~


	11. Torn

**Chapter 11: Torn**

Brandon leaned against the wall outside the _Blaze_ office, knowing it was always Andrea's final stop before she headed outside to catch her bus. The final bell of the day had rung, and the halls were beginning to thin out as students filtered off to sports, activities or the parking lots. He was planning to offer Andrea a ride, figuring they could head to the Walsh house to start preparing for the campaign. He was pretty certain that his mother would then extend the invite to Andrea to join them for dinner, and he could drive her back to her grandmother's house later that night.

He knew Kelly would be stopping by the Walsh house at some point, judging by the last words she had spoken to him before eighth period, and he wanted to take a moment to explain the situation to Andrea before Kelly made her appearance. He also wondered if Kelly had said anything to Brenda, and he had to admit he was curious to see how his sister processed the news.

"Hey, what are you waiting for?" As if on cue, Brenda strode towards him, books at her side, a look of mild irritation on her face. "Let's get going. Some of us have homework to start, thanks to Mrs. Henson's past life as a slave driver. I swear, the old bat is insane if she thinks we can finish two hundred pages of Faulkner by Wednesday." She paused. "Think we can stop at a bookstore so I can grab some Cliff's Notes?"

"Bren, seriously, just read the book. You're only cheating yourself if you use Cliff Notes," he reprimanded her gently. She rolled her eyes.

"Then why does everyone do it?'

"I read the books," he replied.

"I rest my case," she smirked. "So can we get going?"

"Just wait a second. I'm waiting for Andrea." He gestured to the door, and Brenda peeked inside, where she saw Andrea hunched over a desk, having what appeared to be a heated debate with another student.

"She doesn't look like she's going to be finished any time soon," she observed. Brandon straightened up and peered through the window. He sighed and dropped his backpack at Brenda's feet.

"Wait here," he ordered, pulling open the _Blaze_ door. At the sound of the interruption, Andrea and the girl both looked up.

"Hey, Brandon," Andrea smiled tightly. "Beth and I were just having a little debate over how to cover the Student Council campaign."

"And I say it's a conflict of interest given that one of the candidates is on staff here _and_ you're telling me that you're running his campaign," Beth Harmon replied, hands on her hips. "I don't think you should be the one to write the articles about it, that's all."

"Newspapers endorse candidates all the time," Andrea shot back hotly. Beth pressed her lips into a thin line.

"And those candidates don't work for the newspapers. It's different, Andrea, admit it. If it wasn't Brandon Walsh, you'd be ranting about it!"

"Brandon, what do you think?" Andrea turned to him, her brown eyes heavy with frustration.

"I think I'm staying out of it," he replied.

"Already the politician," Beth laughed. "Well, this issue aside, Brandon, I think it's safe to say that you have my endorsement. I think you'd do a great job."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"He would do a great job," Andrea interjected. "But he's going to need to get his name out there. He's still relatively new to this school, and most of us have known Michael Miller since kindergarten. Name recognition is the sole reason half of uninformed high schoolers vote."

"Andrea, I hate to interrupt when you're spouting facts," Brandon teased. "But Brenda's waiting outside that door, and my guess is she's not going to be happy the longer I'm in here."

"Oh," Andrea flushed, looking down. "Sorry, Brandon. Was there something you wanted then?"

"Actually, I was coming to offer you a ride. I thought maybe we could go to my house and get our ideas for this campaign on paper."

"That would be great!" she exclaimed, reaching for her bag on the chair, her face bright with enthusiasm. She grinned at him and turned to Beth. "I guess we'll continue this debate tomorrow?"

"We can discuss it at our staff meeting on Wednesday. I'm sure Jay and the others will have their own opinions on the matter," she replied, sliding into a chair to begin pecking at a keyboard. "I'm going to try and edit that article on the auditions for Our Town and the one about the marching band competition."

"Okay, well, I guess we'll see you tomorrow then," Andrea replied.

"Bye," Beth answered, not looking away from the screen. "Good luck with the strategizing session."

"Thanks," Andrea and Brandon both replied in unison. Brandon held the door for his friend as they exited the office.

"It's about time," Brenda teased. "Hi, Andrea," she smiled warmly at the girl.

"Hi, Brenda!"

"So, what are you two up to this afternoon?" Brenda asked, feigning innocence.

"Andrea's coming over to start planning my campaign," Brandon explained. Brenda stopped and smacked her brother on the arm.

"Oh, I'd been meaning to ask you about that. Thanks a lot for not telling me about your presidential aspirations this morning on the ride to school. Why is the sister always the last to know?" Brandon ducked his head sheepishly as they reached the parking lot, and he began searching for where he had parked the car. The rain had finally let up, though the sky was still threatening, and they dodged puddles as the three of them made their way to Mondale.

"Someone told you?" he questioned. Brenda cocked her head at him and gave him a disapproving look.

"I heard it from Donna at lunch. And she had heard it from Kelly," she explained. "She only said she had ran into you on your way to get a petition from Mrs. Teasley."

"I'm sorry, Bren," he apologized, unlocking the driver side door and flicking the unlock button inside to allow Brenda and Andrea access. He longed for the ability to unlock the doors with a simple click from a remote, like most of his friends could with their clearly-superior vehicles. Mondale, like his namesake, was firmly rooted in the 80s. "I should have told you this morning. I just wasn't one hundred percent sure until I talked with Andrea today."

"Well, I guess I'll forgive you," she laughed, settling into the passenger seat while Andrea climbed into the rear seat behind Brenda's.

"What do you think?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I think you'd be a great president," she replied with a smile. "You're probably to nice and too honest for any real political aspirations," she added quickly, "but as far as high school government goes, you're ideal."

"Thanks, I think," he joked, looking over his shoulder to guide the car out of the spot as he put Mondale in reverse. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andrea staring at him, but when he met her eyes in the rearview mirror, she immediately looked away, gazing out the window silently.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Brenda broke the silence, pivoting in her seat to address Andrea. The brunette's eyes widened behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

"What?"

"Relax, Andrea, I'm not accusing you of anything," Brenda replied smoothly. "All I'm wondering is if my brother got this idea on his own, or he was persuaded to run by someone else." Brandon hid a smile and glanced back at Andrea again.

"Uh, it was my idea," she admitted. "He actually needed quite a bit of persuading."

"Andrea might be the one with a future in politics," Brandon mused. "She's quite the bull when she wants something."

"Not really," she blushed. "I just think you should make a difference in the world when you have a chance." Brenda leaned back against the seat, mildly amused by the way Andrea reacted whenever she was within several feet of Brandon.

The quick ride home was made even quicker when Brenda discovered Andrea can already read A Light in August and urged the brainy girl to give her a crash course in Faulkner. Cliff's Notes apparently couldn't hold a candle to Andrea's take on the novel, and Brenda had gone so far as to pull out her English notebook to jot down some of the things Andrea was sharing.

As Brandon turned onto Hillcrest Drive, he blinked twice and wondered if he was seeing things as the Walsh home came into sight. Parked in the driveway was Kelly's gleaming red BMW. He sighed inwardly and cursed himself for dragging his feet on telling Andrea about his invitation to the blonde.

"What's Kelly's car doing in our driveway?" Brenda wondered as she too noticed the Beemer. From the back seat, Brandon noted Andrea shift ever so-slightly in her seat.

"Oh, you're not expecting her?" Brandon feigned. Brenda shook her head.

"Not that I knew of. When I left her and Donna this afternoon, she was talking about some project she had to work on. She said she'd talk to me later, and I didn't see her again after eighth period." Brenda shrugged. "Maybe she just felt like coming over. You know sometimes I think she likes talking to Mom, given her lack of parental guidance." Brenda threw open her car door as Brandon brought Mondale into park and the car shuddered to silence.

"Andrea, wait," Brandon called as she began to follow Brenda into the house. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm lightly, stopping her from advancing any further. Andrea glanced down at his hand on her, and he withdrew it almost at once. He rocked back on his heels and sighed. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Can it wait til we get inside?" she replied as rain drops began to pepper them once more, increasing in intensity. Brandon looked up at the gun-metal sky, a splash landing square between his eyes as he did so.

"Yeah, let's go," he agreed, and the two darted up the driveway and into the dry warmth of the Walshes' foyer. He could hear his sister's voice coming from the kitchen, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she figured out why Kelly was there.

"What's wrong, Brandon?" Andrea asked, confusion etched on her face. Brandon raked a hand through his hair and braced himself.

"It's about Kelly," he replied.

"What about her?" Andrea said bluntly.

"I, uh, well, this afternoon in history class, she had something for me." He paused, chiding himself for how lame he sounded and how difficult it was to just tell Andrea the truth. He was reasonably certain she was going to be annoyed by Kelly's involvement. He took a deep breath and opted to just be direct. "Kelly had taken it upon herself to go get another petition from Mrs. Teasley, and she had collected all my signatures by the end of lunch. She gave it to me in history, and she kind of hinted that I might need help with my campaign…"

"Brandon, you didn't," Andrea shook her head, and he couldn't tell if it was exasperation, jealousy or a combination of the two that crackled in her usually-serene brown eyes.

"What could I say, Andrea?" he explained, his voice rising, throwing his hands up.

"You could have said no," she retorted. "Oh, wait. Girls like Kelly aren't used to the word 'no.'" Brandon was taken aback by the barb; he wasn't used to Andrea saying anything mean about anyone.

"That wasn't nice, Andrea," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, guilt now clouding her face.

"It's not really that big a deal," he continued. "She just wants to help, and she was so proud of what she had done for me."

"Yeah, it was very charitable of her," Andrea snipped. She shook her head again.

"You're still my campaign manager, Chief," he reassured her.

"Brandon, are you out there?" his mother's voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I am, Mom," he replied, starting towards the kitchen and motioning to Andrea that she should follow him.

"Hi, sweetie!" Cindy Walsh grinned broadly. Brandon managed a weak smile for his mom before his eyes wandered to the seat to Cindy's left, where Kelly was seated, a glass of iced tea in front of her, giving him a very private smile. Brenda was rummaging through a cabinet, obviously searching for something to snack on. "Andrea, hi!" Cindy added cheerfully. "Brenda told me you were with Brandon."

"Hi Mrs. Walsh," Andrea smiled politely. Her eyes cut towards Kelly, who was still gazing at Brandon. "Kelly," Andrea continued tightly.

"Hi, Andrea," the blonde replied breezily. "We were just talking about you." Brandon inhaled and crossed over to the refrigerator to grab something to drink. Andrea raised an eyebrow at Kelly.

"Oh?"

"Well, I was just telling Mrs. Walsh about Brandon running for Student Council president," Kelly explained.

"I think it's wonderful," Cindy enthused. "Your father is going to be so pleased. He always felt badly that you had to suspend your run for treasurer back home in Minnesota on account of his transfer."

"Dad's always had political aspirations for you," Brenda called from her perch at the counter, gnawing on an apple.

"Brandon told me that you're running his campaign," Kelly continued, smoothing her hair with one hand.

"And he told me what you did with his petition," Andrea replied. Brandon's eyes darted between the girls, being very much like a tennis ball in the middle of an intense volley.

"Anything to help Brandon," Kelly added, locking her eyes on his.

"Wait, I didn't hear about this," Brenda protested, coming around from behind the counter to take the seat next to Kelly. "What did you do with his petition?" Kelly shrugged.

"I got it completed for him," she responded, as if it had been nothing. "It didn't take me very long either. I had it filled by the end of lunch."

"So that's where you were," Brenda mused softly.

"I knew Brandon would be studying for his history quiz, and I figured I'd surprise him. I think it worked." Brenda frowned as she took note of the adoring glance her best friend was shooting her brother.

"Well, I guess we can just chuck the other one," Andrea huffed.

"How many signatures did you have, Andrea?" Brandon asked, curious as to where they'd have stood without Kelly's assistance. Andrea dug her toe into the floor and coughed. Brenda and her mother exchanged a look of slight amusement at the battle lines clearly being drawn.

"I'm going to go out to my garden and try to get some fresh cucumbers for the salad for dinner. You girls will both stay, won't you?"

"I'd love to, Mrs. Walsh," Kelly beamed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Walsh. I'll have to call my grandmother and see if it's okay, but I appreciate the invitation," Andrea replied. Cindy smiled and retreated out the back door.

"So, how far did you get with Brandon's original petition?" Kelly repeated, leaning against the table, eyes shining.

"Not many, okay? Six. It's not a big deal now. Brandon'll hand in the form tomorrow and it all becomes official," she pointed out. Turning to Brandon, she said, with some impatience, "Can we go up to your room and start planning?"

"I'm going to go start my homework," Brenda declared. "Kelly, you coming?" Kelly glanced over at Brandon and bit her lip. Brandon deduced that Kelly had yet to tell Brenda her real intentions for being in their kitchen at the moment.

"Well, actually," Kelly hedged. "I'm kind of helping Brandon with his campaign." Brenda tried to contain her surprise, and she snuck a glance at Andrea, who was trying to hide her displeasure with this revelation.

"You are?" Brenda exclaimed incredulously. "I thought Andrea was running the campaign."

"I am," Andrea interjected at the same time Brandon replied, "She is." They looked at each other. Brandon continued.

"Andrea's still my campaign manager, but Kelly was nice enough to offer, so I figured the more help, the better."

"You're not mad, are you?" Kelly asked, her eyes shooting Brenda a silent plea, and Brenda groaned inwardly, realizing Kelly was not about to give up on her pursuit of Brandon.

"No," she lied. "Why would I be?" She retrieved her books from the kitchen counter. "You guys have fun planning. I'm going upstairs." Without another word, she stalked from the kitchen, leaving the three of them behind. She trudged up the stairs, swallowing a lump of jealousy that had bubbled up for several reasons. Closing her door quietly, she flopped onto her bed, realizing for the first time how hurt she was that Brandon had not confessed his idea to run for Student Council to her before anyone else. They usually shared those kinds of things, each being able to offer the kind of advice no one but a sibling could offer, and it wasn't like Brandon hadn't had the opportunity that morning. Instead, he had glossed the whole situation over and blown her off.

Then there was Kelly. It was brutally obvious the interest she had in Brandon, and Brenda strongly suspected her willingness to do grunt work on a Student Council campaign was solely to get closer to Brandon and make herself look better in his eyes. In fact, Brenda had to wonder if she wasn't partially responsible for the whole situation, given the incident just days earlier when she insinuated Kelly wasn't Brandon's type. What better way to prove Brenda wrong than be Brandon's MVP? Given than Kelly had never shown any ounce of school spirit and participated in exactly zero school-related activities, Brenda knew she was probably correct in that assumption.

She also knew the crush Andrea harbored for Brandon, and in spite of Brandon's comment that Andrea was relentless in getting what she wanted, Brenda figured that tenacity did not apply to matters of the heart. She had done very little to come on strongly when it came to Brandon, and if she was going to face off with Kelly when it came to winning her Brandon's affection, Brenda knew that Kelly would come out, guns blazing. She had already made the first move in the little stunt she pulled with the petition.

She rolled over onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, blinking several times, surprised at the hot prick of tears she felt stinging at the corners of her eyes. Scolding herself, she fought them back. Foolish, she chided herself. She glanced over at the phone on her bedside table, and she longed to be able to pick up the receiver and hear Dylan's voice. But he was miles away, and she would have to wait for his call.

She also had to wonder if she and Kelly were supposed to use this time away from Dylan to bond, how that would even be possible if Kelly was busy attempting to wrap herself around Brandon's finger.

Heaving a sigh, she turned back onto her stomach and reached for her dog-eared copy of A Light in August. The last student to have used the book had clearly used and abused it, and she found several pages fell out of the worn permabinding as she opened it. Annoyed, she tossed the book to the floor, crawled into a ball and closed her eyes, opting to drift off for a quick nap and forget the irritations of the past hour.

***

"Now this is nice." Dylan shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun as he glanced over at his father, reclining on a chaise lounge beside Dylan, Corona sweating in his hand. Dylan nodded absently, his eyes wandering back out to the sparkling sea beyond the balcony of his father's Mexican bungalow. The crowded beach was quickly becoming deserted, and just a few sun worshippers were left, trying to drink up every last ray. He took a sip from the bottled water at his side, trying to quell the nagging urge from within for a beer of his own. He suspected his father wouldn't have cared in the slightest if he had one.

"It's good to have you here, son," Jack continued, clapping a hand on Dylan's shoulder.

"Good to be here," he echoed, his eyes following the path of an errant seagull screaming across the sky.

"I'm sorry we haven't had much time together since you got here on Saturday," Jack apologized, taking a long pull off his beer.

"What's her name, Dad?" Dylan asked mockingly. Jack smirked and nodded.

"You still know your old man better than anyone, eh?" He set down his beer. "Her name is Catherine."

"That's not very ethnic," Dylan replied.

"She's not Mexican. Native Californian, just like you and me."

"So what's she doing in Mexico?"

"The short answer? Laying low and keeping her assets hidden from a greedy soon-to-be-ex-husband."

"I take it you don't feel the need to share the long answer," he shook his head. Jack shrugged.

"Why bother? I'm just having some fun, Dylan. It's not serious."

"It never is, is it Dad?"

"I try not to let it be," Jack responded curtly. "And it's better that way. How's your mother?"

"Nice try changing the subject," Dylan retorted dryly. "Iris is fine, not that you really care. Haven't talked to her in a few weeks, but last time we spoke, she assured me my aura was good and I was due for some happiness."

"When is she ever going to let up on that hippy shit?" Jack sighed.

"If it makes her happy, why do you care?"

"Touche," Jack laughed. "So, you've been pretty quiet about how things are with you since you arrived, and don't think I haven't noticed you haven't been down on the beach trying to land a Mexican fling for the week." He swung his legs over the edge of the chaise lounge and rested his elbows on his knees. "So, talk to me son. Your turn. What's her name?"

"Dad," Dylan warned.

"You know me so well, well, Dylan, don't think I don't know you better than anyone. Most time you're down here visiting with me, you've got girls lined up waiting for you. I remember last year on one particular visit you had two different gals knocking on the same night." Dylan frowned and recalled the incident well.

"So?"

"So, you've been sitting out on this balcony for the better part of the day, you haven't had a drink all day, and you're not off somewhere working your charms on the better part of the female population of Los Cabos. So logic tells me there's a girl in your life, and it must be fairly serious. So what's her name?"

"Brenda," Dylan murmured, trying to keep the smile from spreading across his face at the very thought of her, not wanting to reveal any more to his father.

"You wanna tell your old man about this Brenda?"

"Not particularly," he muttered, giving into the urge and snatching the half-empty Corona from the table, taking a long, languid sip of the beer, which was like ambrosia to his taste buds. He closed his eyes and savored the taste. "I came down here to see you out of obligation, Dad. Not really looking for a heart-to-heart." Which wasn't entirely true, he knew. Indeed, he had hoped to have a chat with his father about his relationship with Brenda, but that was before Jack had chosen to blow him off within hours of him arriving at the bungalow, apparently spending the night and day thereafter with this Catherine woman he had just spoken of. He was more than a little bit irritated with his old man, and he really wanted to be left alone with his thoughts.

"I ask you to come down here all the time, and this time you practically jumped. Why are you here, Dylan?"

"I thought I'd spend some time with you before the law finally catches up with you," he snapped. "Weekly prison visits just aren't the same, you know." Jack pressed his lips together and nodded cynically.

"Save the sarcasm, son. You know it doesn't work on me, we're cut from the same cloth." He nodded at the almost-empty Corona bottle. "I'll get you one of your own." He rose from the lounge chair and slipped inside the sliding glass doors. Dylan sighed and stared off in the distance again. He drained the last of the beer and plunked down the empty bottle, the lime rattling around inside as it bounced to a stop at the bottom. He had the sudden urge to call Brenda, just to hear her voice, but he thought better of it, knowing she would no doubt want to chat for an hour. He'd have to wait til later in the evening to make the call. Jack would most likely be slipping out to see his lady friend, unless she came to him. Dylan wrinkled his nose at the thought, and made a mental note to head to Don Quixote's, a dive bar not far from Jack's little community, if this Catherine did materialize tonight.

"Here you go." Jack dangled an open bottle above Dylan's hand, and he closed his fingers around the frosty brew, reaching over into the ice-filled bowl and selecting a lime wedge. He squeezed it into the beer, then jammed the wedge down into the bottle neck, the amber liquid fizzing as the lime plunged into it. He plugged his thumb over the open neck, inverted the bottle and let the lime slip to the bottom before taking a pull. Jack did the same as he repositioned himself on the chaise.

"So, let's talk about Brenda," Jack suggested again. Dylan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, Dad, you want to talk, we'll talk. What do you want to know?"

"What are you willing to tell?"

"I told you I didn't really want to tell you anything," he snorted. "I'll answer your questions, and maybe if you're lucky, I'll just get chatty."

"Well, okay, then," Jack frowned. "How did you meet? School?"

"Yeah, school," Dylan nodded. It wasn't entirely untrue, though their meeting was a bit more complicated than he felt necessary to share with Jack. "She and her family moved to Beverly Hills from Minnesota."

"That's quite a change," Jack mused.

"You could say that," Dylan replied.

"What's she like?"

"She's beautiful," Dylan began, his mind conjuring up an image of her, and this time, he couldn't help smiling. He could see her glossy, raven hair, bangs just framing her face, skimming the tops of her steely-gray eyes, which always seemed alight with happiness when she was with him. He pictured her full lips, which always seemed fuller in his presence, usually swollen from their intense kissing.

"I wouldn't expect any less," he laughed. "You always land yourself the beauties." He studied his son's reflective face, and could tell the young man was deep in thought. "So what makes this one different?"

"She just is," Dylan replied cryptically. "She's sweet and she's innocent and she's…just so unlike any of the other girls I've dated." He shook his head, now feeling his bottled-up emotions threatening to spill over. "And I'm trying to figure out what she sees in me and what she's doing with me."

"That's easy. The sweet young things always go for the rebellious bad boys. Been happening for centuries. Or have you never read Romeo and Juliet?"

"I'm falling in love with her, Dad," he confessed, twisting the bottle back and forth between his palms.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Her father hates me," he added. Jack chuckled.

"Frankly, I'd be more concerned if a girl's father liked you at first sight."

"I've never really had a long-term relationship with anyone,' he continued. "And even thought it's only been two months, I can see myself with this girl for a long time."

"And that scares you," Jack nodded. "You're young, Dylan. I think most guys are a bit weary of commitment at your age."

"I don't want to hurt her," he whispered. Jack turned and gazed at his son seriously.

"Why would you think you'd hurt her?"

"I don't know. Cause I've screwed up everything in my life up to this point, why would I stop now?"

"Oh, Dylan, my boy," Jack shook his head. "You definitely have it bad."

"Thanks for the newsflash," he replied sarcastically. The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted their conversation, and Jack picked up the cordless receiver that he had brought onto the deck with them.

"Hello? Catherine, hi," he lowered his voice, raising his eyebrows at Dylan as he stood and headed for the sliding doors again. "No, no, I was just talking with my son…" The doors clicked shut and Jack's voice was silenced. Dylan sighed and drank his beer, listening to the squawk of the gulls and the crashing of the waves. _And this is why I don't open up to you, Dad,_ he mused, bitter that the second he thought they were making progress, the call of a stupid woman beckoned and Jack ran like a dumb dog.

Nevertheless, the solitude was much preferred, and he closed his eyes and let thoughts of Brenda Walsh consume him once more.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Author's Note: **_Poor Steve. Guess he didn't make it into this chapter after all. But I just couldn't find a way to do it seamlessly. It seemed out of place, so I cut it and it's waiting on deck, maybe as part of Chapter 12. We shall see.

I wanted to get this up because odds are I won't have anything else up until next week, unless I really get the new story's first chapter wrapped up better tomorrow night (it's long and choppy right now), so my apologies for any typos…this was only proofread once.

It's really hard to get inside Dylan's head, and I wanted to get across the iffy relationship he shared with his dad, making him reluctant to open up, so I felt it was appropriate to have Jack leave just as Dylan was opening up. I hope you agree…

I didn't get inside Brandon's head as much as I wanted with the Andrea-Kelly initial showdown, because I felt the dialogue needed to flow back and forth without so many intrusions. I'm sure there will be enough chances for that in subsequent chapters. I just hope he's coming across as adequately torn with his feelings. I'm also trying to be true to Andrea, who always showed jealousy towards Kelly in Season 1, and Kelly, who was far more blasé in Season 1…like I said, it's going to take Brandon to make her the character most of us loved so much by Season 4.

Okay, I'll shut up now. That's why I saved the author note for the end of this chapter. Please click that little green button and share your thoughts…I'm very grateful for all the detailed feedback on the last chapter! ~Court~


	12. Start Me Up

**Chapter 12: Start Me Up**

"Everything smells great, hon," Jim Walsh smiled appreciatively at his wife. Cindy returned the smile and set another serving bowl on the table. Brenda continued setting the table, placing silverware at her father's left while keeping her eyes fixed on Kelly, who was pretending to nonchalantly linger in the kitchen doorway. Andrea pushed past her, carrying a stack of dishes, and Kelly narrowed her eyes at the shorter girl's back.

Brenda hid a smile. The three girls had been casually chatting in the kitchen since Mrs. Walsh had felt they should formally tell their father rather than have him stumble upon a campaign strategy session. Brandon had agreed and had gone upstairs to do his homework, leaving Brenda to run interference between Kelly and Andrea.

Granted, the casual chatter had mostly been limited to Brenda speaking and Kelly or Andrea answering. The two of them barely acknowledged the other's presence. Brenda knew Kelly could be cool to those she didn't like, but she was surprised Andrea could keep up the same level of nonchalance towards the blonde. Andrea was usually friendly to everyone. Brenda decided 'everyone' in Andrea's book didn't include a rival for Brandon Walsh's affection.

"Oh, thank you, Andrea!" Cindy exclaimed. "Let me take those."

"No, that's okay, Mrs. Walsh, I don't mind helping," she added, laying the plates out around the table. Brenda slid into her seat next to her father and shot another glance at Kelly. Kelly had joined the Walshes for enough dinners that she had an honorary seat next to Brenda, but Brenda knew she was hanging around waiting to claim the seat next to Brandon before Andrea could. So obvious, she thought to herself with mild irritation.

"I think we're just about ready," Cindy announced. "Brenda, would you tell your brother we're ready?"

"Brandon!" Brenda yelled, slipping her napkin onto her lap and reaching for her glass of water. Andrea set the last plate in front of Brenda and retreated to the other side of the table, and just as Kelly started forward, Andrea settled into the chair to the right of Cindy. Kelly frowned and slowly stalked around towards where Brenda was sitting.

"We could have done that," Jim scolded gently, shaking out his own napkin. Brenda pursed her lips teasingly at her father, and he smiled at her. Footsteps thundered down the stairs and Brandon bounded into dining room doorway, nearly plowing into a discretely sulking Kelly in the process. She grasped at his arm as he steadied her, and her mood instantly changed.

"Sorry, Kelly," he apologized. She licked her lips and replied with a demure smile.

"You should be more careful," she advised him mischievously before striding purposefully to her seat next to Brenda. Brenda gave Kelly a pointed look, and her friend shrugged her shoulders and flashed a quick grin back.

"So, now are you going to tell me what your big announcement is?" Jim queried, heaping a pile of mashed potatoes on his plate. Brandon and his mother exchanged amused smiles.

"I didn't even give him a little hint," Cindy declared proudly, passing her husband the gravy boat.

"Did you decide to give the basketball team another try?" Jim guessed. Brandon made a face as Brenda smothered a giggle.

"Basketball season is over, Dad," Brandon supplied, cringing at the memory of his last failed attempt at becoming a star point-guard.

"Think Kennedy, Mr. Walsh," Kelly piped up. "Ask not what your son can do for West Beverly." Brenda, though astonished Kelly had managed a correct allusion to JFK's famous speech, kicked her friend under the table, but Kelly ignored her and continued serving herself a modest portion of salad, the rest of her plate considerably bare save for a small piece of chicken and several spears of asparagus. A look of surprise registered on Jim Walsh's face.

"Are we talking about something political, Brandon?" Jim asked, his eyes alight with reserved excitement.

"Maybe," he replied evasively.

"Don't tease your father, Brandon," Andrea warned, elbowing him.

"I decided…well, technically, Andrea persuaded me to run for Student Council president," Brandon announced, watching the grin spread onto his father's face.

"That's wonderful!" Jim exclaimed, placing his fork down on his plate and bracing his hands against the table. "President! Really?" Then he leaned back in his seat, and Brandon felt his father studying his face. He nodded.

"Andrea made some good points, and it's about time that I get more involved in my school. I mean, I was all set to run back in Minneapolis…."

"I know you were," Jim agreed. "And I felt badly that I spoiled those plans."

"Yeah but wasn't that only going to be for treasurer?" Kelly interjected. "This is _president_. Of the whole school," she added emphatically.

"You'd be a great president," Cindy grinned admiringly. Brenda rolled her eyes inwardly, keeping her disdain to herself. Yet another dinner was quickly turning into the Brandon-Walsh-Can-Do-No-Wrong-Hour. What else was new, she lamented to herself.

"I concur," Jim beamed. "My son, the president."

"Easy, guys, I haven't won yet. In fact, the other guy has had a sizable jump on the campaign. He's been working for weeks, and we've got a lot of work to do," Brandon pointed out.

"That's where I come in," Andrea offered.

"We," Kelly corrected with a tight smile, and Brandon shifted in his seat. "We're both helping Brandon with his campaign," she affirmed, taking a small bite of chicken and giving Brandon another smile. Brenda saw Andrea's left cheek twitch faintly, no doubt still smarting from Kelly horning in on what Andrea probably saw as "her territory."

Brenda continued eating in silence, trying to tune out the conversation and think of things she could do to attract the same level of attention from her parents. After several frustrating minutes of futile brainstorming, she instead let her mind wander to thoughts of Dylan. It at least brought a smile to her face.

"What do you say, Bren?"

"Huh?" Brenda's head snapped up at the sound of her brother's voice. His clear aqua eyes focused on her as he waited, expecting an answer to a question Brenda clearly had not heard. Brenda felt four more pairs of eyes fix on her, and her shoulders sagged slightly.

"Brandon asked if you were going to help with the campaign at all," Kelly supplied, raising an eyebrow at Brenda, as if she knew her friend's head wasn't in the discussion.

"Oh, I guess so," Brenda shrugged, reaching for a half-empty bottle of light salad dressing. She smacked the bottle a few times, sending ribbons of dressing scattering over the bed of lettuce as she watched her brother's eyes light up.

"Great," he exclaimed, beaming at her. "You know I wouldn't want to do anything without my sister by my side." Brenda offered another half-smile, feeling a pang of guilt that though the words had left her mouth, she wasn't entirely sure doing anything political, brother or no brother, was in her future. At this point, the only thing interesting about Brandon's campaign was the better-than-likely chance of Kelly and Andrea coming to blows over him. Brenda couldn't speak for Andrea, but she knew Kelly would pull out all the stops if it came to raising her stock in Brandon's eyes.

"I know you probably don't want your old man hanging around, but I'd be happy to join any brainstorming sessions you kids have," Jim added.

"We're going get started planning after dinner." Kelly locked her eyes on Brandon. He nodded.

"As long as Andrea doesn't need me to take her home yet," he replied.

"Um, for a little while I guess, yeah, I can stay. I do have a Spanish test tomorrow that I should study for."

"Please," Brandon laughed. "You could ace a Spanish test being absent from class for a week." Andrea blushed and looked down at her plate.

"Brenda, did you have a good day at school?" Cindy asked suddenly, offering her daughter a sympathetic smile. Brenda pursed her lips and exhaled, finding herself more irritated than comforted by her mother's attempt at including her in conversation. Nevertheless, she gave her mom a tight smile and wriggled her shoulders, pushing at her salad with her fork.

"It was okay I guess," she admitted. "Nothing as exciting as a run for Student Council to report."

"Have you heard from Dylan?" Kelly asked, and Brenda immediately shot her friend a venomous look, her eyes motioning that Kelly should never have brought up Dylan in the first place.

"Oh? And where would Dylan be?" Jim raised an eyebrow, fixing his gaze on Brenda. Brenda gave Kelly another withering look, in spite of the fact she knew her friend was purposely avoiding her eyes and twisting her napkin in her lap, guilt etched on her face.

"He went away for a few days," Brenda replied evasively, taking a slow sip of her water.

"What about school?" Cindy added, and Brenda could hear the disapproval in her mother's voice. Brenda sighed inwardly, lamenting how square her parents could be, knowing they would find any reason to judge Dylan McKay.

"He's with his father in Mexico," Brenda continued, watching more displeasure creep into her father's eyes. If Dylan was a sore subject, Jack McKay was pure poison. She knew her father thought Dylan's father was the lowest form of life, though she had never fully grasped the ins and outs of business ethics that Jim Walsh was always ranting about whenever Dylan's father's name surfaced.

"Oh," was Jim's only reply, his voice flat and tinged with condemnation.

"Brandon, I think we should get a professional to do your campaign photos," Kelly interrupted, redeeming herself slightly in Brenda's eyes as she swiftly changed the subject.

"Photos are expensive, Kelly," Andrea piped up before Brandon could mull over the blonde's suggestion. "I'm sure we can do wonders with a regular roll of film, or maybe we can even get one of _The Blaze's_ staff photographers to throw us a bone…"

"I don't know Andrea," Brandon sighed. "You heard how Beth reacted when it came to you writing about the campaign when you're clearly campaigning for me. Somehow I don't think begging favors from our co-staffers will go over any better."

"I guess you have a point," Andrea admitted meekly, ignoring the triumphant smirk on Kelly's face. Brenda heaved another inward sigh and stabbed absently at the lettuce in her salad bowl again. Watching Kelly fawn all over Brandon was definitely an appetite suppressant.

"I know plenty of photographers from Jackie's modeling days," Kelly continued, smile widening. "And I'd bet at least one of them would be willing to help her daughter out for next to nothing."

"Cheap is good," Brandon nodded.

"As long as they're good," Andrea shrugged.

"Please," Kelly waved a hand absently. "As if I'd consider anything but the best for Brandon." Brenda stifled a snicker and took a quick sip from her water.

"Sorry, went down the wrong pipe," she lied convincingly.

It was at that moment the shrill ringing of the phone interrupted the chatter. Brenda leapt from her seat, napkin fluttering to the floor as she cried, "I'll get it." At this point, even listening to the drone of a telemarketer was preferable to Campaign '91. Of course, a tiny quickening of her pulse reminded her she was longing to hear Dylan's voice.

"Hello?" she breathed.

"Hi, my name is Mary Clemens, and I'm with the Beverly Hills Monitor. Our records indicate that your household is not currently subscribers, but we can change that now." Brenda exhaled and felt her hopes deflate.

"We're not interested, thanks," she replied, not waiting for the chipper woman to plead her case further. Brenda replaced the receiver with an irritated smack and slowly strode back to the dinner table, willing the remainder of the meal to go as quickly as possible. After all, she had a phone to wait by. He'd call sooner or later, she assured herself, crossing her fingers it would be sooner and not later.

***

"Okay, so, where do we begin?" Brandon drummed his fingers against the coffee table, leaning forward to glance up at Andrea, who was standing with her arms crossed in front of the fireplace. Kelly had immediately positioned herself next to him on the couch, and he could smell the spicy sweetness of her perfume from her close proximity.

"I think the biggest concern we're going to have from the get-go is funding. It's not cheap to make fliers and posters and buttons…" Andrea began

"You just have to know how to exploit your resources," Kelly interrupted. "I mean, why pay for fliers to be run off at some copy place when someone probably has a parent who has copier access right at their office."

"Oh, I think my dad will happily agree to that," Brandon laughed. "You heard him at the dinner table."

"And I already told you I can take care of the posters no problem," Kelly added. "I'll see if my mother has a particular photographer that she liked or owes her any over-due favors. But really, shouldn't we be focusing first on getting Brandon's name out there?"

"Michael Miller declared his candidacy over three weeks ago. He's probably assuming at this late date that he's going to have a clear path to the presidency," Andrea agreed grudgingly. "So we have to make a statement that you are entering the race, and you are serious about your campaign."

"I have an idea," Kelly piped up. "After Brandon hands in his petition tomorrow morning, he should ask if he can make an announcement over the P.A. system, and then we can also try to get some air time for him on the radio station." She smiled, clearly pleased with herself for the plan.

"Not a bad idea," Brandon mused, nodding his head in agreement. Kelly flashed him a brilliant smile and cut her eyes towards Andrea, as if awaiting a rebuttal.

"I don't know about your homerooms, but no one in mine even bothers to listen when the P.A. chimes go off. You really think an announcement would be effective?"

"If it's done right, it would be," Kelly sniffed.

"Well, P.A. system or not, I think the radio station could be a good idea," Brandon piped up. "Almost everyone listens to the radio."

"Not during homeroom," Andrea noted. "It would have to be done first thing in the morning, when kids are driving in or after-school, when everyone's heading home."

"Yeah, but what about the kids who ride the bus?" Kelly tossed her hair and turned towards the fireplace. "Like you Andrea. How do we reach them?" Brandon cringed inwardly at the little dig Kelly had directed towards Andrea and watched the brunette stiffen involuntarily. He met her eyes and gave her a wink of sympathy, which he wasn't entirely sure Andrea even caught.

"I say we do both, then," Brandon said firmly, ignoring the tension that was rapidly building in the room. "Chances are the kids who ignore the P.A. are the ones we can catch using the airwaves, and we'll just make the announcement twice."

"I guess that's feasible," Andrea replied flatly, settling down in a chair and scribbling in her notebook. "Morning or afternoon?" Brandon thrummed his fingers thoughtfully and felt Kelly shifting next to him, subtly inching closer to him.

"They only make morning announcements," Kelly pointed out coolly. Andrea smirked.

"I meant the radio," she replied as Kelly's cheeks flushed pink. Andrea returned her gaze to Brandon.

"Morning?" he suggested.

"What about the lunch periods? The quad always has the station playing, and if you make the announcement during homeroom, there should already be a good buzz going around, then we drive it home again at lunch?" Brandon nodded enthusiastically at Kelly's suggestion.

"I like it," he approved.

"And that's what counts, I guess," Andrea replied, the corners of her mouth curving upward in a smile directed at Brandon. It earned her a death stare from Kelly, but she deliberately ignored the blonde's icy stare as she jotted a few more scribbles on the paper. "So we'll get to school a few minutes early and see if we can't persuade Mrs. Teasley to let us jump on the end of announcements." She made a check mark with a flourish in her notebook. "Kelly, you want to deal with securing some air time on the radio while Brandon and I handle the announcement?" This was the Andrea with whom Brandon was so familiar, delegating responsibility the way she did so authoritatively at the _Blaze_ staff meetings. He also knew she had been quick to marginalize Kelly with the suggestion, insuring she'd be doing something else. And not with Brandon.

"I guess," she replied, avoiding Andrea's gaze, plucking at an imaginary thread on her shirt.

"Brandon, would it be out of the way for you to pick me up tomorrow morning?" Andrea asked.

"It would be out of the way, but certainly not a problem," he smiled. Beside him, he sensed Kelly's lithe frame tense, and he slid his eyes towards her. She was staring at her hands, wringing them absently. Cutting his eyes back to Andrea, he saw what could only be described as subdued triumph shining in her eyes.

"Good, cause most days my bus isn't on time, and this way, we can get to the office with time to spare to talk to Mrs. T," she concluded. He exhaled and flopped back against the couch. He had a bad feeling that a much larger battle than his campaign was already being waged.

***

"So you were pretty quiet at dinner," Mrs. Walsh said softly, handing Brenda a dripping dish. Brenda shrugged and took the dish from her mother's hands, rubbing a towel absentmindedly around the edge of the plate.

"I wasn't really part of the conversation," she replied pointedly. Cindy plunged another dish into the soapy water and gave her daughter a compassionate smile.

"You don't think it's exciting that your brother's running for school president?"

"No, no," she sighed, placing the dish onto the drying rack and wiping her hands. "It's exciting, and I'm happy for him…"

"But…" Cindy prodded. Brenda managed a half-smile. Cindy smiled back. "I knew there was a "but" in there somewhere. Mother's intuition."

"No, there's no "but" Mom," she lied smoothly, not really wanting to press the issue. She had really had enough of talking about her brother for one day.

"Then what's bothering you, honey. It's not like you to be so quiet at dinner, especially with Kelly here."

"I don't know, just stuff I guess," she replied evasively, drying another dish, this time with more care.

"Kelly certainly seems enthusiastic about helping Brandon," Cindy observed. "I have to admit I'm a little surprised. It's something I'd expect to see Andrea doing, she and your brother being such good friends and all, but I didn't know Kelly was involved with Student Council."

"She's not," Brenda answered dryly. "I guess she felt like she needed a new hobby or something." The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Kelly's crush on Brandon with her mother. She shuddered and placed the dish on the rack again.

"Because of the time you've been spending with Dylan?" Brenda's head snapped up, and she met her mother's eyes with surprise. Cindy smiled knowingly and wiped her right hand on the dish towel before she placed a reassuring hand on Brenda's shoulder. "Don't look so surprised, sweetie. I was young once, and I remember what it's like when a good friend starts seeing someone new. In fact, I was on both sides of the coin quite a few times," she chuckled softly.

"I've tried to make time for Kelly and Donna."

"I know you have," she smiled. "But I also know how great it is when you have someone new, and no matter how hard you try, it seems like the guy always wins out."

"I really like Dylan," she replied quietly, her pulse quickening at the mere thought of him.

"I know you do," Cindy nodded.

"And I know you and Dad aren't his biggest fans," Brenda continued.

"I can't speak for your father," her mother said. "But I actually do think Dylan's a very nice guy. There are just some thing I think any parent would be wary of…he's not like the boys you'd bring home in Minnesota." Brenda hid a grin. Understatement of the century. Maybe because the boys in Minnesota were just that. Boys.

"This isn't Minnesota, Mom, remember?"

"I know," Cindy laughed, exhaling. "I keep reminding myself of that, but sometimes I still feel like we're on an extended vacation and it's all going to end. Do you feel that way?"

"Not at all," Brenda replied. "Dare I say this is actually starting to really feel like home."

"So why did Dylan feel the need to go down to Mexico?" Brenda groaned and replaced the towel over the bar on the oven and walked around to the other side of the counter, settling on one of the stools. Here comes the third degree, she grimaced.

"He just wanted to spend some time with his dad, I guess."

"And his father conveniently forgets that his son is in school and can't come up here for a visit?"

"It's complicated, Mom. I don't really try to understand the relationship Dylan has with his father." Brenda knew this was the aspect of Dylan's life that her mother found it most difficult to understand. In fact, she knew her mother would be horrified if she knew most kids in Beverly Hills seemed to have absentee parents, whether it be literally or emotionally. Or both.

She leapt off the stool as the phone jangled loudly behind her, stumbling over her own two feet to grab it before it could ring a second time.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful." Brenda gripped the receiver tightly and felt her knees turn to jelly at the sound of Dylan's voice.

"Hi," she whispered softly, her stomach fluttering. She chided herself for acting like a schoolgirl, but she felt her giddiness rising in spite of it. This was why love made people so crazy, she reasoned. "Can you hang on for a moment?"

"Sure." She set down the receiver and pivoted, meeting her mother's eyes.

"Yes, I'll hang it up when you get upstairs," Cindy grinned. "Go."

"Thanks, Mom," Brenda called, already sprinting towards the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

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_**Author's Note**_: Okay, so it's been awhile, huh? Real life got in the way, and honestly, writer's block was so severe I just didn't even feel motivated to touch any of my stories until a few weeks ago. But sound the trumpets, I guess I'm back!

It was encouraging to continue to see a few reviews and lots of story alert sign-ups in my in-box during my little hiatus, so I hope that most of you who are on alert for my stories will go ahead and leave some feedback. This chapter took quite awhile to write, especially because it was hard to get a decent balance between the Kelly-Andrea rivalry stuff and not having Brenda come across too whiny about it. I really hated the way the writers dealt with it in the real episode, which is what partially inspired this story in the first place. I'm trying to keep her real, with a healthy blend of jealousy and support for her brother, and as promised, she's going to channel her feelings in a much better way than that stupid stand up/move out thing.

So…I've left you hanging. If you want Brenda's telephone call with Dylan, Andrea's ride home with Brandon, and some devious David plotting, you know what to do…click that green button and motivate me! Thanks for reading. ~Court~


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